


Sweet Child of Mine

by silverneko9lives0



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, HRBB14, Kid Fic, M/M, The Hobbit Reverse Big Bang 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-01 00:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2752088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverneko9lives0/pseuds/silverneko9lives0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Drakyrna</p><p>Bilbo and Thorin take Frodo in while the Bagginses and the Brandybucks figure out who takes him in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s too bright and cheery for a funeral. Sadly the weather will decide what it will and if it chooses to be cheerfully sunny on the day a little boy has to bury his parents, then it will be as it likes.

Bilbo hates it, but at least he and Thorin won’t have to worry about Frodo getting a cold from the rain on top of watching the gravediggers lower his parents’ empty caskets—for closure, Mirabella insisted. Primula’s and Drogo’s bodies were never found though they had combed the river nearly a hundred times—into the earth.

Frodo clutched at his grandmother’s hand, blinking at the earth being shoveled on top of the caskets. Bilbo doesn’t look away from the boy, unsure how Mirabella intended to tell Frodo that he’ll be staying with Bilbo and Thorin while his relatives—specifically his aunts—figure out where he’ll call his home from now on. Frodo rubbed at his eyes and Mirabella knelt down, pulling his fist away from the raw skin around them.

It wasn’t hard to imagine that Frodo was terrified if not upset. He was normally a bright and mischievous child who may or may not have once or twice played around with Thorin’s terrible sense of direction—not that it seemed he minded much. Bilbo had an issue with it more than Thorin.

(“I manage to get home, don’t I?” Thorin would say with a shrug. Bilbo snapped that that wasn’t the point. “He’s a child, Bilbo. Frodo reminds me of my nephews. I’ll admit it’ll stop being cute eventually. But in the meantime, I’m all right with it. Half the time, it’s more to appease him and his friends. I know how to get around the Shire now. I swear it.” Once an uncle always an uncle, Bilbo supposed.)

There hadn’t been any childish pranks played on Thorin since Frodo learned of his parents’ deaths.

Thorin thinks he’s just confused.

 _But for how long?_ Bilbo wonders.

Frodo will figure out what death is eventually. Most children learn about death through the loss of a pet. They should never learn about it by losing their mother and father before their time.

Mirabella approached with Frodo by her side. “Shall we go to dinner?” she asked. Frodo nodded, raising a fist to rub at his eyes again. Mirabella halted him. “Muffin, you need to stop that.”

“I can’t help it, Granny. My eye’s itchy.”

Mirabella sighed. “Would you like to go with Mr. Bilbo and Mr. Thorin?” Frodo looked at them and nodded before he lowered his eyes again to his feet, frowning.

Mirabella let Frodo’s hand go as Thorin knelt down to get as close to eye level with Frodo, mumbling something to the boy which Bilbo didn’t hear as his aunt pulled him aside. “Thank you again for offering to take him in.”

“It’s no problem,” Bilbo said. “Honestly, I was a bit…unsure why you asked me to take him in. I’m not a parent and I don’t know anything about children.”

“But Thorin does and he’s good with them. Isn’t he?”

Bilbo nodded. Thorin had admitted being excited to have a child running around Bag End. The declaration had made Bilbo feel a bit…inadequate—which was why he agreed to taking Frodo in.

Temporarily.

Bilbo never liked children very much. They were loud, noisy, and messy. Babysitting a few hours was fine and all but Bilbo wasn’t parenting material. Thorin, on the other hand, had experience from aiding his sister raise his nephews.

To add, Fili and Kili grew up quite well, if still a little immature. Seeing the way Thorin acted with his sister, Bilbo wasn’t surprised the boys were a tad childish even as they grew older.

“Yes,” Bilbo said. “He’s very good with children.”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about,” she said. “Besides, you’ll make a wonderful uncle.”

“If Frodo was a little older, maybe. But Aunt, he’s six. He’s a baby. I wouldn’t know what to do if—”

“He’s much older than a baby, Bilbo, and he’s potty-trained. It’s not like you’ll have to change his nappy or feed him with a bottle. Just try to be patient with him—and most certainly don’t belittle him!”

Bilbo glanced at Thorin and Frodo. Frodo was letting Thorin carry him on his shoulders.

“Yes, Aunt,” he said. “But just till everything is sorted out.”

“If you change your mind, I’ll gladly let you and Thorin adopt him. Besides, I’ve not seen him smile in a long time and it seems your Dwarf is a master with children.”

Thorin was carrying Frodo around like a sack of potatoes on his shoulder. The boy’s laughter was shrill. Merry and Pippin had latched onto Thorin’s boots, trying to climb up his pants while holding on as Thorin spun around. Bilbo tried not to groan at his husband’s antics.

It should look cute, but Bilbo only felt embarrassed.

“He helped his sister raise her sons, so…”

“Well, at least Frodo will have a veteran caretaker! How are Thorin’s nephews? They’ve not been in the Shire since your wedding.”

“They’re quite well,” Bilbo said.

_I am very glad I never saw them at that age._

He ignored the pesky voice reminding him that Fili and Kili wouldn’t have gone on a quest to reclaim a mountain if they were still as young as Frodo and his cousins.

“They’re still quite young, but Fili has taken the role of a king admirably and Kili’s—”

“Surprisingly an adequate ambassador to the tree—Elves,” Thorin said, quickly correcting himself.

“What are tree Elves?” Pippin asked.

“What do you think tree Elves are?” Thorin asked, smiling at the little one.

“Elves that live in trees?” he asked.

Thorin ruffled his hair. “Exactly, muzmith,” he said.

“What’s a moose-mit?”

“Who’s hungry?” Bilbo shouted.

The children cheered and Frodo wiggled, begging to be free from Thorin’s arms to run after his friends toward the party tree. Before he could take Thorin’s hand in his, Mirabella circled her arm around Thorin’s bicep. Bilbo slumped his shoulders and let them walk ahead. Perhaps it was too soon to hope that the old biddies would ever leave his husband in peace, big muscles or not.

Is it so much to ask that they get their own Dwarf?

They found Frodo with his friends, searching the crowd. For who, Bilbo wasn’t sure he wanted to know. But he could guess from the frown appearing on Frodo’s face. Mirabella released Thorin, patting his arm before joining one of her sons. Thorin and Bilbo took a seat near the children’s table like the other parents and guardians. Too many conversations…too many blasted speeches about the departed.

What really was the point of funerals? If there was a point, Bilbo didn’t know of them. All he knew was that there were people speaking about a boy’s parents’ lives. Remembering things Frodo would never know about his father and mother.

Whether he liked children or not, Bilbo could remember his relatives doing the same thing at both funerals for his parents—and it had made him sick.

#

“I don’t see why I have to be here,” Bilbo told Mirabella. “I’m only taking care of him temporarily.”

“And that might change,” she reminded him. “Amaranth and Dora are neither married nor are they mothers.”

“Asphodel is.”

“Asphodel has her own brood to look after. Besides, I see no problem with you and Thorin taking Frodo in permanently.” Bilbo groaned and took a seat as the battle began. Apart from the lack of swords and blood, it really was a battle.

The Bagginses argued that he should stay in their family because his father was a Baggins and he ought to be brought up as a respectable Baggins should. If he were to stay with Brandybucks who also bore Took blood, well the glances at Bilbo were more than enough reason to back their reasons.

Bilbo ignored the jibe. Mad Baggins and his Dwarven husband, running off on one adventure or another—as if a trip to Bree once a month was really an adventure. Ha! They needed to face Trolls, Orcs, Goblins, and a dragon first before they understood what an adventure was.

Bilbo didn’t mention any of that. Let them think what they will.

The Brandybucks believed that “respectability” couldn’t be taught and that the Bagginses would suppress Frodo’s autonomy. Again, glances were sent in Bilbo’s direction. Look at what happened to Bilbo, after all, they seemed to think.

If not for Gandalf, he’d still be shackled to his father’s ideas of what is “respectable.”

It was annoying that they’d assume his father was an oppressor or that his mother was wild. He was just…himself. He merely had grown up and decided to be respectable himself. That was all. That was always ever what happened. His parents were wonderful. Even if his father didn’t like him running about at night it was less about it being unrespectable and more about his safety.

After all, would Bungo Baggins have married Belladonna Took if he was entirely respectable? His father was more adventurous than anyone guessed and his mother tamer than anyone saw. He had good parents who accepted him for who he was, just as he was only ever who he was.

Nothing was settled, in the end, and Bilbo returned home, tired and nursing a headache. The house was empty. Thorin was at the forge and Frodo at the schoolhouse. Bilbo valued the silence for a few sweet minutes as he made some ginger and lemon tea for his head before selecting a book from his shelf to read by the hearth before their inevitable return at tea time.

And when they did return, Frodo was crying on Thorin’s shoulder again.

“Lotho again?” Bilbo asked.

The Sackville-Bagginses’ child was as horrible as his mother. Far too often, Thorin had stuffed his hands in his pockets in effort t restrain himself from disciplining the boy. Bilbo hadn’t the desire to restrain him. Lotho needed a good walloping.

“For once, no,” Thorin said. “Let me put him down for a nap first.”

He didn’t wait for Bilbo’s indication that he may go do as he had promised and Bilbo took the time to set the tea tray up. Once he could only hear Frodo’s muffled sobs, he realized that his headache had returned and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“How was the meeting?” Thorin asked.

“Lacking the necessary blood and gore a real war would need,” Bilbo said. “Some not so subtle insults were thrown.” _At me._ “So what happened at school?”

“Well, it was a good day over all for him. No fights, no bullying…but the moment I showed up at the end of the day, he started crying.”

“Who did he expect would come? His mother?”

Thorin wasn’t impressed with the quip. “Yes, Bilbo, his mother,” he said. “It’s normal for him to expect her to come for him. He’s mourning.”

Bilbo sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m tired. I know you’re tired too. I just…I can’t do this. I don’t have your patience.”

Thorin kissed his cheek and embraced him. “I know. But it’ll get easier. I promise you that, ghivashel. Besides, I wasn’t that great at the beginning either. Fili and Kili were absolute nightmares after their father died. Dis and I hadn’t any idea what we were doing half the time. All things considered, they survived us.”

“True. But they’re also still hellions.”

Thorin chuckled and poured himself some tea. “Dis and I may not have been the most mature role models ourselves when they were children.”

“That would explain everything,” Bilbo said. He took a sip. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without you right now. I don’t understand why anyone would think I’m capable of raising a child.”

“You are.”

“Thorin—”

“Bilbo, I’ve seen you with Ori and my nephews. It’s no different. Frodo’s younger than you’re used to dealing with. That is all. It’ll get easier.”

Bilbo wasn’t sure how it could. It seemed bloody impossible.


	2. Chapter 2

Weekends were the worst.

While Thorin could usually take the time to calm Frodo down when he had a fit, Thorin was never around to do so on the weekends since he had to work.

Bilbo swore he never had such bad headaches before Frodo started living in Bag End. Usually he’d calm him down by telling him about one of his adventures or giving him a cookie. But Thorin didn’t like that.

 _What else am I supposed to do?_ Bilbo thought when Frodo ran into his study again.

“Uncle Bilbo! I want a story!” he demanded.

“Can’t it wait?” Bilbo asked, reading over another line.

“No!” Frodo said, stomping his foot and pouting. Bilbo could feel another headache coming. How on earth did Thorin manage this?! He turned to Frodo.

“How about this: I’ll tell you a story while we…make a pie. How does that sound?”

“Cookies,” Frodo said.

“All right, cookies it is. Again,” Bilbo followed the fauntling to the kitchen and quickly avoided accidents by grabbing the flour for Frodo before the little one fell and hurt himself in his attempts at climbing onto the counter. Bilbo’s nose wrinkled at the thought of anyone’s feet on his counter.

“What kind of cookies do you want this time? We have cinnamon in the pantry and if you want peanut butter, we can get that too.”

“Chocolate Chip,” Frodo said.

“We’d have to go to the market,” Bilbo told him. “We used up all the chocolate chips last time we made cookies. It’d be longer until we can eat them.” Frodo pouted.

“Can we go to the toy shop too?”

Bilbo resisted the urge to sigh or smack Frodo atop the head, digging his nails into his skin. “No. You have plenty of toys. I doubt you really need more.”

“Yes, I do,” Frodo argued.

“If we go to the market, we’ll get chocolate chips, but we are not getting another toy, Frodo,” Bilbo said as sternly as he could. Frodo silenced and stared at the table.

“Cinnamon cookies, then,” he mumbled, heading to the parlor.

 _Great_ , Bilbo thought. _Thorin’s going to like this_.

He was trying not to spoil Frodo, but by the gods it was hard. It had nothing to do with whether Frodo was cute or not. Many commented on how “adorable” he was. Bilbo thought that made things worse for him in a way. Rather it had to do with that his presence already caused Bilbo far too many headaches and he didn’t want any more than he already got.

If another toy kept him from crying or throwing a tantrum—which Bilbo feared above all else—then so be it. However, Thorin hadn’t been pleased when Frodo’s toy box started overflowing.

Frodo returned with the cinnamon jar and Bilbo helped him onto a stool, instructing him to mix the dry ingredients together while he ground the cinnamon sticks up.

“What story would you like?” Bilbo asked.

Frodo hummed for a moment before making his choice: “Spider story.”

The spider story: The tale where Thorin and the rest of the company were captured by Spiders in Mirkwood and Bilbo had to save them. At least it wasn’t the troll story again. Even Thorin admitted he was getting a little tired of retelling that one. Frodo happened to like both versions of the same event and often begged it from both of them.

It all mattered on who was more available at the time.

He finished the account just before wrapping the dough in wax paper and placing it to chill in the ice box. Bilbo helped Frodo wash his hands after that.

“What happened after that?”

“We were caught by Elves,” Bilbo said. “Very different from the Elves we met before.”

“Were they bad elves?”

“No,” Bilbo said.

Likely they were more scared or angry at the time than they were bad. Thranduil may be an arrogant prick, but he wasn’t evil, no matter what Thorin said. One bad decision did not make a good person bad. But he wasn’t about to explain that to Frodo.

“They were cautious—which means they were being careful. They didn’t know who we were, so they were suspicious and didn’t want to take any risks—I mean they didn’t want to make any mistakes.”

Frodo just stared at him.

Bilbo sighed. “Um…you know how when you’re learning to cook, you have to be careful because cooking can be a little dangerous when you cut vegetables and fruit?”

Frodo nodded.

“It’s not quite like that, but like when you’re cooking, they needed to be careful. But in this case it had more to do with keeping the spiders and other enemies away than it did with minding your fingers. And remember when we made a mistake with the cookies and had to start over?”

Frodo nodded again.

“Again, it’s not the same, but they wanted to be sure we were on their side before they let us go.”

None of that was true, or at least most of it wasn’t, now that Bilbo thought about it, but how else was he supposed to explain it well enough for Frodo to understand? How does one explain suspicion and caution to a fauntling save through cooking?

“I’ll let you know when it’s time to put the cookie dough on the cooking sheets, okay?”

“Okay, Uncle Bilbo,” Frodo said before he ran into the garden.

Bilbo wiped the table down and disposed of the rag with the rest of the laundry before massaging his head. He glanced out the window, making sure that Frodo wouldn’t tear up his plants again.

He had legitimate, wake-up-screaming nightmares about that which Thorin, being the ever supportive and loving husband that he is, laughed at when Bilbo admitted them. Bilbo could understand why Thorin made light of his fears. Compared to everything the underwent on the quest and the occasional nightmare Thorin had about his time in war, calling a dream where Frodo completely wrecked the garden was laughable.

Pleased to find that Frodo had found Sam and the boys were now wrestling on the lawn under Hamfast’s watchful eye, Bilbo decided to return to work on his book.

At least Hamfast knew how to care for a lad better than Bilbo could ever hope to.

#

“You made cookies again?” Thorin asked, staring at the platter after they put Frodo to bed. “Unless we’re expecting Dwalin soon and somehow it slipped your mind to warn me, Bilbo…”

“I know, but it was either this or risk Frodo having another tantrum in the middle of the street.” Thorin snorted. Bilbo scowled at him. “Pardon me, but I’m practically grasping straws here, Thorin. Invisible straws and for the love of all that is green can’t somebody write a book on childcare?!”

Thorin embraced him and rubbed his back. “You are doing the best you can,” he said, “And I love you all the more for it, Ghivashel.”

“How can I be doing the best I can when I have no idea what in Yavanna’s green earth I’m doing?” Bilbo muttered in Thorin’s tunic. “I’m not cut out for this!”

“Parenting isn’t an achievable art,” Thorin said, gently pushing Bilbo into a chair before sitting across from him. “Parents make mistakes all the time. You’re not the first one to feel like you’re fumbling around in the dark looking for matches.”

Bilbo massaged his forehead. Thorin kissed his cheek. “I love you, Bilbo, and I know you’re doing the best you can. What I don’t like is—”

“How many cookie jars are piling up in the pantry?” Bilbo asked, a smile tugging on his lips.

“Well there’s that,” Thorin agreed. “It has more to do with this whole custody battle everyone’s been harping about. It’s so much simpler among Dwarves. It’s usually the most trusted next of kin. For instance: Fili and Kili’s father was the last of his line. Parents dead, no siblings: that left Fili and Kili in my care because I was the only other living relative alive. When that happened I named them my heirs. To be fair it was difficult more than you think. Thank Mahal I built an immunity to Kili’s puppy eyes.”

Bilbo chuckled. “So you think Frodo should stay in the Baggins family,” he said.

“No, I think that this fight over where he’s going to live is ridiculous,” Thorin corrected. “I think your aunt and cousin chose us to watch the boy while the others battled because they think we’re the most suited to care for Frodo. You’re the head of the Baggins family and you have no heir. Frodo is an only child, and is used to having his parents’ undivided attention. He won’t get that if he goes to live with a family that already has children of their own. To add, they won’t be able to love him as much as they should because their own children will put their needs before Frodo’s. Frodo also needs a stable home. Not knowing where he’s going to live right now cannot be good for him. If he gets attached to us and then it’s decided he won’t stay with us, he’ll think he’s losing another family.”

“Mama?” Frodo called, rubbing his eyes as he entered the kitchen. Snot trailed out of his nose and tears stained his red cheeks. Thorin squeezed Bilbo’s hand before he lifted Frodo up in his arms, whispering to him and walked back down the hall.

Bilbo ran his hand through his hair. Another sleepless night ahead, he thought. He stared at the candle. Perhaps Thorin had a point, but Bilbo? Capable of raising a fauntling? No. Going into a dragon’s den was easier than this.

He went to bed, waiting for Thorin to return from putting Frodo to bed again.

Bilbo stared at the dead hearth.

An heir?

If Thorin wanted children, then he married the wrong person. It hurt to think that Thorin wanted something Bilbo couldn’t provide him, even if they both wanted it.

Which they didn’t—Bilbo hadn’t any desire to be a parent and he hadn’t the foggiest idea how anyone would think him remotely qualified to be a parent or guardian! Too add, Bilbo didn’t think Thorin understood how he could not want to be a parent.

And with the way Frodo resembled Thorin, it’d be easy for him to pretend Frodo was his child by blood. It made Bilbo’s throat feel as though something wanted to climb out of it.

He heard the door creak and gently shut closed. Bilbo felt the bed dip on Thorin’s side as Thorin settled beside him, heavy arm wrapped around Bilbo’s waist and Thorin’s beard scratched his neck. Bilbo swallowed and closed his eyes, hoping Thorin wouldn’t notice his discomfort or that he was still awake.

“Bilbo?” Bilbo didn’t answer. “Ghivashel, I know you’re awake.” He still didn’t respond. “What’s wrong?”

For a moment, he considered lying. Instead, he turned around. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, “Not right now.”

Thorin drew his thumb over Bilbo’s cheek and pressed his forehead to Bilbo’s. “All right,” he said. “But you’ll tell me soon, won’t you?”

Bilbo nodded. He would have to before everything he was bottling up exploded. Parent material or not, Frodo shouldn’t see them fight. The house usually became a warzone when they fought and that, especially, would be bad for him.

“I love you, Bilbo,” Thorin said, dragging his nails down Bilbo’s back.

“I love you, too,” Bilbo said, pressing a kiss to his husband’s lips.


	3. Chapter 3

Waking to a shrill scream was a guaranteed way of giving Bilbo a bad headache. Why must Frodo scream so loudly and so shrilly? Thorin groaned, burying his face in the pillow before aiming to get up. Bilbo stopped him and got out of bed. He earned a reprieve. Bilbo grabbed his bathrobe and walked down the hall to Frodo’s room. He knocked.

“Frodo?”

The door wrenched open and Frodo embraced him, clutching at the robe and wailing. Bilbo froze, unsure what to do. He took a breath and hefted Frodo up until he could wrap his arms around Bilbo’s neck. It didn’t help his migraine. If anything it only aggravated it.

Bilbo walked to the parlor and sat down. He rubbed Frodo’s back, hoping he’d calm down soon. True, the crying had ebbed to a hiccup, but how much longer would it be until Frodo’s tears subsided. As Frodo relaxed, so did Bilbo, and he took to humming one of the lullabies that he had heard from Thorin since Frodo came to live with them.

“You want to talk about what you dreamed of?” Bilbo asked. Frodo shook his head, rubbing his eyes of his tears and wiping his nose on his pajama sleeve. There was a time Bilbo would’ve cringed, but since being covered in troll snot. Baby hobbit snot wasn’t going to faze him easily. “What would you like for breakfast?”

“Muffins,” Frodo said, wiping his eyes.

Bilbo hefted him up onto his hip and carried him to the washroom to clean Frodo’s face of tears and boogers. “Muffins it is,” Bilbo said. “But after we get you cleaned up, okay?” Frodo nodded, rubbing at his eyes. Bilbo filled the bathtub, checking the temperature before helping Frodo inside. “What kind of muffins do you want? We have lemon, and cranberry, and blueberry…”

“Lemon muffins,” Frodo said. “With hot chocolate.”

“Would you like some strawberries too?” Bilbo asked, lathering soap on Frodo’s hair. Frodo nodded as Bilbo massaged his scalp.

“Cream too,” he demanded.

“That might be too much chocolate for the morning,” Bilbo said. Frodo smiled.

“Whipped cream, Uncle Bilbo.”

“Oh, okay. Whipped cream. That makes more sense. Deep breath and close your eyes.”

Frodo pinched his nose and his cheeks puffed out as Bilbo dunked his head half into the water, hand supporting the back of Frodo’s neck as the other cleared away the soap. He helped Frodo back up.

“All right,” Bilbo said, standing to grab a towel and found Thorin leaning against the wall, smirking at him. His face felt warm and he met Thorin’s gaze with a confused frown. “What?”

“Nothing,” Thorin said. He handed a pile of Frodo’s clothes to Bilbo, still smirking. He pulled Bilbo closer and kissed him. “You are a natural.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are, men ghivashel,” Thorin purred, stealing another kiss from him.

“Ew, kissing!” Frodo squealed.

Thorin threw his head back and laughed. Bilbo blushed, setting Frodo’s clothes down to grab one of the towels. He helped Frodo out of the tub and before he could rush out of the door, Bilbo wrapped him up in the towel and dried him off before helping him dress. Only after did he let Frodo run off to the kitchen for breakfast.

“I’m not a natural,” Bilbo repeated when he came across Thorin helping Frodo get the lemon muffins. Thorin arched a brow, still smirking. “I’m not.”

“No kissing,” Frodo said, glaring at them and bouncing on the balls of his feet. Thorin laughed again and Bilbo shook his head.

“Okay, no more kissing,” he said, relieving Frodo of the muffins.

“Except if it’s you,” Thorin said, grabbing Frodo and giving him itchy kisses on his cheek. Frodo squealed and kicked, screaming. Bilbo ignored them as he set the table.

“Thorin, get the strawberries and whipped cream, please,” Bilbo called. A moment passed before Frodo ran into the kitchen and hid behind Bilbo’s legs, heaving for breath between giggles. “You okay?”

“No,” Frodo said.

“No?!” Bilbo asked. Frodo shook his head, clutching Bilbo’s trouser leg. “Well, I think, we’ve had just enough excitement for one morning.” Frodo shook his head. “You don’t think so? Okay, but no more silliness until after breakfast. Shall we tell Thorin?” Frodo shook his head. “Why not?”

“Thorin is always silly,” Frodo said. Thorin entered the kitchen with the bowl of strawberries in one hand and the container of whipped cream in the other. “He’s silly all the time!” Thorin arched a brow, setting the items on the table. Bilbo grinned. It was, in a way, quite true.

“Yeah, he kind of is silly, isn’t he?”

“Am I missing something?” Thorin asked.

“You’re missing lots of things,” Frodo answered, completely serious. Thorin arched a brow at Bilbo, who shrugged and turned to build the hearth up so to make the cocoa.

“So what lots of things am I missing?” Thorin asked.

“I don’t know,” Frodo said.

“But isn’t it your job to know?”

“No.”

“What do you mean no? I thought you were in charge of reminding me of the things I’m missing!” Bilbo shook his head, feeling his headache return. There was only so much ridiculousness he could take.

#

He sat at his study, working on the his book when Thorin came in and wrapped his arms around Bilbo’s waist. He nuzzled Bilbo’s neck. “He’s taking a nap,” he said, pressing kisses to the skin. “Might I say again that you are a natural?”

“No, because it is not true,” Bilbo said a bit more haughtily than he intended.

Thorin stopped kissing him and rested his chin on Bilbo’s shoulder. “Ghivashel, you have no parenting experience whatsoever and you managed to not only calm Frodo down, but give him a bath, dress him, and entertain him. It took me much longer than a few days to get the hang of it and I wasn’t given the luxury of trying to avoid any of it after my brother-in-law died. Believe me, you’re a natural.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m capable of being a parent!” Bilbo snapped, twisting around to face Thorin. “What’s the point of being able to know how to feed and bath and dress a boy if you’re not capable of being there for him emotionally? It drains me more than you think. I can’t do this. Not daily. Maybe I should think about naming someone my heir, but I can’t take in a fauntling to do it, Thorin. I can’t adopt Frodo. That poor child would become as bitter and alone as I was before I met you.”

“No he won’t,” Thorin said. “You are not your father, Bilbo, no more than I am mine.” He pulled the quill out of Bilbo’s hand and set it down. “Ghivashel, what’s really the problem? Why are you so against taking Frodo in?”

Bilbo stared at his hands clutching the back of his chair. “Do you want to adopt him?” Bilbo asked. “Do you want to be a parent again? Or have you always wanted to be a parent? Because, regardless how distant my own father was with me, I can’t stand children, Thorin. I never have and if that is what you wanted then _why_ did you marry me?”

Thorin took Bilbo’s hands in his hand pressed kisses to his knuckles before cupping Bilbo’s cheek. “I married you because I loved you. And I still love you. Bilbo, I never thought I’d be a decent parent either and even when I was helping Dis, I never considered myself one. When Fili and Kili were little, I was always the crazy uncle sneaking sweets to them behind their mother’s back. Having to fill their father’s role was very difficult for all of us. It still is at times and I always hated disciplining them. It always felt wrong to me because I wasn’t replacing anyone. Look we aren’t replacing anyone in Frodo’s life. His mother and father will always be in his heart and they will always be his mother and father. Bilbo, I don’t care if we adopt him or not. I’d like to, but it’s ultimately your decision. You’re the one who’ll be granted guardianship. Not me. I’m not Frodo’s blood relative, so I have no say. Ghivashel, I will support you, whatever you decide. I just believe Frodo’s grandmothers asked us because they believe we are the most qualified and I saw you with him just now. You were brilliant with him. I know you can do this and no one ever said it’d be easy. It’s just another adventure.”

Bilbo sighed and Thorin kissed his forehead. “I need to think about it more before I decide, but right now, I can’t even imagine wanting to take him in.”

“Of course,” Thorin said, kissing him again. His thumbs brushed against Bilbo’s cheek bones and he pressed his forehead to Bilbo’s. “Never forget that I love you, with or without a child. Now, I’m going to go check on him. I’ll be right back.” Bilbo waited until Thorin disappeared behind the wall to return to his book. Or he would return to it if he remembered what he was meant to be writing. “Bilbo, front door is open!” Thorin called.

Bilbo furrowed his brow. He didn’t leave it open. And he knew that Thorin hadn’t been outside today. Bilbo set the quill back down and went to investigate. He had just closed it when Thorin strode by, grabbing his cloak.

“Frodo’s not in his room.”

“What?”

“Well, it’s not the first time, he decided not to have a nap when he was supposed to.”

“So he might’ve—”

“Overheard? It’s likely.”

Bilbo groaned and grabbed his own cloak. “Go check the market,” Bilbo said. “I’ll look along the riverbank.”

“Would he be there?”

“I don’t know!” Bilbo snapped, heading toward the Brandywine. “Just go!” He sprinted down the hill toward the river, calling for Frodo and asking others if they’d spotted him when he passed by. He even paused at the Gamgees to ask if they’d seen him.

They’d not.

Once at the river, he patrolled the banks. Frodo couldn’t have gotten that far…

He spotted a rock breaking the water’s surface and a head of ebony curls. It was Frodo, sitting cross-legged on the shore and throwing rocks or pulling the grass around him.

“Frodo?”

He looked at Bilbo, fresh tears trailing down his cheeks. Bilbo joined him on the shore.

“Am I bad?” Frodo asked. “Is that why mama and papa went away?”

Bilbo sucked in a breath. “No, Frodo, you’re not bad. You never were. You’re parents never wanted to leave. There was just nothing they could do about it.”

“Then why don’t you want me either?” Frodo asked. “You don’t. No one does.” Bilbo ran his hand through his hair.

“Frodo, I’m not good with children. I never have been. It has nothing to do with you, lad. I honestly don’t know what I’m doing. Wouldn’t you rather be with someone who knows what they’re doing?”

“Thorin does.”

“Yes, but Thorin isn’t around all the time.”

“So? He’s around enough. I don’t want to live with someone else. I want to live with you and Thorin. I like it at Bag End. It’s fun.” He threw another rock before aiming to rub at his eyes. Bilbo stopped him and pulled out a handkerchief, wiping the tears away.

“Are you certain you’d rather live with us?” Bilbo asked. “Other than Sam Gamgee, there aren’t many children on Bagshot Row for you to play with when you don’t have school.” Frodo nodded. Bilbo rubbed his face. He didn’t get it. Why would Frodo want to stay with him? Thorin, he could understand. Thorin was wonderful with children. Bilbo could only take so much before he needed space.

“Look, the decision lies with your grandparents. They asked us to take you in and I will never understand why. But if you really want to stay, then you are welcome to.”

Frodo blinked, staring at Bilbo a moment before embracing him. Save for Fili and Kili, back when they thought Bilbo’s and Thorin’s relationship would fall apart, no one had held to him so tightly. Bilbo lifted Frodo up and struggled to his feet before walking back to Bag End.


	4. Chapter 4

Bilbo met Thorin on the way back home as he was coming to look for Bilbo. Bilbo could see the tension physically roll off him when he spotted Frodo sleeping on Bilbo’s shoulder. He embraced both of them.

“He was at the river?”

“He was.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Bilbo said. “I didn’t ask. Do you want to carry him for a bit? My arm’s falling asleep.”

Once Frodo had been shifted to Thorin’s shoulder, only acknowledging the change with a tired whine, they continued on their way home.

“I’ll talk to him when he wakes.”

“You don’t need to. I already did.” Thorin arched a brow at him. Bilbo rubbed the back of his neck. “He ran off because he overheard me telling you I didn’t want to adopt him.”

Thorin hummed. “And?”

Bilbo looked at his feet. “Well, you can guess. He thought that he wasn’t wanted. He said he likes it at Bag End because it’s fun. What sort of thought is that?”

“A normal one,” Thorin said. “A home is supposed to be safe. No one said it couldn’t be fun also. Before the dragon, my siblings and I often explored the mountain, climbing on statues and crawling into small caves.”

Bilbo needed to talk to Thorin about his definition of safe.

“You didn’t think the same?”

“Well, you know me,” Bilbo said with a shrug. He met Thorin’s smile. “I was more likely to be found in the woods rolling under bushes and falling in mud pits. Home was where I went to eat and sleep. It was where my parents were and yes, it was safe. But it never equated to me as fun.”

Word spread that Frodo had been found, and other than the pair of angry cousins outside Bag End, the chaos was relatively cleared up. Thorin was allowed to put Frodo to bed while Bilbo tried to calm Dora and Amaranth.

After all, Frodo had been found and he wasn’t hurt. To be fair he understood their anger. However, he didn’t think that gave them the right to question his ability to care for a fauntling.

“Ladies, will you please shut it,” Bilbo snapped, earning shocked gasps from them. “He’s fine and he wasn’t gone long. You can keep your skirts on—in fact, I beg that you do. Now if you excuse me, he’s going to be hungry when he wakes up and I’d rather not have to deal with a tantrum thrown by a hungry six year old. Good day.”

He fled into the house and locked the door behind him, waiting for Frodo’s aunts to leave.

Thorin leaned against the door, arching a brow.

“What?”

“‘You can keep your skirts on’?” Thorin asked, fighting a grin.

“What else was I supposed to say? Knickers? Spare me the thought!” Bilbo shuddered. “Tea?”

“I think I’ll have an ale,” Thorin said.

Bilbo arched a brow. “Brandy in tea.”

“Fine, I’ll have a bloody tea.”

“So good to know you haven’t forgotten that colorful language of yours.”

Thorin scoffed. “I happen to be minding my tongue, Master Baggins.” He sat at the table. “And I believe that is a wise move with a child in the house.”

Bilbo shrugged.

Thorin followed him to the kitchen. “And since said child is having his nap, I have no interest in holding back. Perhaps now you’ll tell me what you told Frodo at the river?”

Bilbo set the kettle over the fire and sat down, pushing a lemon pound cake toward Thorin.

“I told him the truth: I’m not good with children and that he isn’t a bad child. I even asked him if he really would rather live with us.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Yes, I don’t think he’s capable of lying,” Bilbo said, “At least not about this.”

Thorin took his hand and kissed the inner wrist.

“So now what?”

“That is up to you,” Thorin said. “We know what he thinks about living with us, and you know my opinion on it. But you are his blood. So you can change your mind and enter that custody battle with his aunts or you can let him go with them. He might be better off with someone else, but you can’t be sure of that. You and I both know that even if we aren’t ideal, we’ll do the best we can. That’s all that can be expected. Regardless what happens next for us and Frodo, I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too.”

“That said, you get to handle him in the morning from now on.”

Bilbo gaped at him. Behind him, the kettle whistled and he stood to retrieve the water and fill it in the pot. “I take it back,” he said, setting the kettle aside. “You’re a tomnoddy.”

Thorin laughed, and pulled Bilbo into a kiss. “You love me, though.”

“Lucky for you, I do.”

#

“Hungry?” Bilbo asked, finding Thorin in the kitchen. He had a letter clutched in his hand. Bilbo assumed it was from Fili.

Thorin didn’t respond and Bilbo arched a brow at him. Thorin remained unresponsive.

“Thorin?”

He grunted.

“Are you hungry?”

“A bit,” he said almost too quietly.

Bilbo took the letter out of his hands and skimmed it.

It wasn’t from Fili. It came from the Blue Mountains, asking Thorin to preside over a meeting in Erebor’s place as Fili, due to some trouble with the Elves—not surprising, if Thorin was believed—was unable to attend. They said that he would suffice as Erebor’s representative.

“So we’re going to the mountains?” Bilbo asked.

“No,” Thorin said. “I am. The roads aren’t safe for Frodo.”

“Then tell them no.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not? They’re not demanding you to go.”

“I don’t mind going, besides, it’ll be good to be around Dwarves again—no offense.”

Bilbo waved him off. He knew what Thorin meant, still he felt the need to assure Bilbo and others that he wasn’t trying to insult anyone or insinuate anything. Bilbo hated that Thorin felt he needed to be on the defensive in the Shire, but if it made him feel better, then so be it.

“Ghivashel, it won’t be more than a month.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better about you leaving. I know I’ve been improving when it came to Frodo, but I am not ready to do this on my own.”

“Nonsense,” Thorin said, cupping Bilbo’s face and pressing kisses to Bilbo’s mouth. “You take care of him all on your own every weekend and you are a bath time master. This is no different, save that I’ll be gone much longer. Besides, he’ll know I’ll be back. And I will be. Give it a couple days and you’ll forget all about me.”

“Hopefully not.”

“Well, we’ll see. But I have faith in you, Bilbo. I know you can do this.”

Bilbo huffed. “Maybe you’re right, but I have the feeling the planet might explode if you’re not here.”

Thorin laughed.

“The planet will explode?!” Frodo shouted.

Bilbo groaned and Thorin laughed harder, sitting down and slumping in his chair.

Bilbo pushed past him and picked Frodo up, promising the panicked fauntling that nothing is going to explode any time soon (except maybe the kettle, but he didn’t tell Frodo that).

“Thorin’s just thinking about going away for a little while,” he said, rubbing Frodo’s back. “There’s nothing to worry about. I was being silly.”

“Explosions are not funny, Uncle Bilbo!” Frodo yelled, stomping his foot.

“No,” Bilbo said, shaking his head. “No, they’re not funny. I’m sorry, will you forgive me?”

Frodo scowled at him for a moment before he nodded and gave Bilbo a hug. Bilbo rubbed his back.

“Would you like eggs and bacon for breakfast?”

“Yes, please,” Frodo said, being set down on the ground. “When are you leaving, Uncle Thorin?”

“Early tomorrow morning. You’ll still be sleeping, Mizmith.”

“Can we have a picnic today?”

“Not today. The weather’s not nice today. When I come back, maybe we can have a picnic if the weather’s nice enough.”

“You’ll be back soon, right?”

“I’ll be back in four weeks,” Thorin said.

Bilbo left the kitchen, heading to the pantry to fetch the eggs and bacon.

A month without Thorin wasn’t uncommon. There were times he needed to go alone to Bree or the mountains.

Once he had to go to the havens. That had been a much shorter trip away, though, as he had been banned from a tavern on the corner. From what Bilbo knew, his Elf-despising husband started a brawl.

Not surprising. He had just sighed and kept the thought that he believed Thorin may have deserved getting clocked in the jaw as he nursed the bruise Thorin had gotten.

That was a couple years ago, however. And while few and far between, Thorin was wrong.

He’d be missed terribly.


	5. Chapter 5

Bilbo waited for Thorin to strap Orcrist and his petrified oak branch shield to his back above his cloak before handing him his bag. Thorin took the bag and cupped his cheek.

“I’ll miss you, Ghivashel.”

“And I you. Are you certain—”

“I am. You can do this. I trust you. The house isn’t going to burn down and nothing is going to explode in my absence.”

Bilbo chuckled. “I suppose not,” he said. Bilbo leaned in, pushing up on his toes to kiss Thorin, who responded. Thorin pecked Bilbo’s lips once more before heading for the door. “Be careful.”

“I will. I’ll write when I get there.” Thorin kissed Bilbo’s hand and the door creaked open.

“Uncle?” Frodo called, he was rubbing his eyes again, the skin around them raw, and sniffling. Bilbo approached him and lifted Frodo up.

“Did you have another nightmare?” he asked.

Frodo nodded.

“All right. We’ll settle it in a moment.”

Thorin mouthed _natural_ to Bilbo before kissing the top of Frodo’s head.

“Mind your Uncle Bilbo.”

“Uh-huh,” Frodo said, still rubbing his eyes.

Bilbo pulled the tiny fist away, glaring at Thorin’s knowing grin. “I believe your presence is needed elsewhere at the moment,” Bilbo said, “So shoo.” He waved his hand in a downward sweeping motion and Thorin laughed again, kissing Bilbo once more before heading out the door.

“Have fun,” Thorin called outside the gate.

Bilbo rolled his eyes and readjusted Frodo to sit a little higher on his waist.

“Why do grownups kiss so much?”

“Grownups kiss because they love each other,” Bilbo said, “Now, you had another nightmare?”

Frodo nodded.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

Frodo shook his head.

Bilbo hummed. “Do you want to go back to bed?”

Frodo’s eyes widened, glistening, and shook his head more violently, curls bouncing against this face.

“Okay, then,” Bilbo said. “How about an early breakfast then?”

“Okay,” Frodo said. Bilbo put him in a chair and began preparing a pan. Taters and eggs sounded good…

He noticed a small body pressed to his leg and saw Frodo pressed against him, looking distraught.

Light would be a good idea.

He lifted Frodo up and they lit as many candles as they could spare, with the agreement that as soon as it was light enough, the candles would be blown out.

And when Sam, Merry, and Pippin arrived to head to school with them, and after Bilbo talked to Frodo’s teacher about Thorin’s absence, he finally felt he could breathe.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be as bad as he assumed it’d be.

#

Frodo stopped, digging his feet into the ground. Bilbo almost let go of his hand, turning to him. “Frodo?”

Frodo looked up at him, trying to look at cute as possible. “Can we go to the toy store?” he asked. “Please Uncle Bilbo?”

“Not until after we get groceries,” Bilbo said. Frodo glared at him. Bilbo took a breath. “Come on. We can stop afterwards.”

“But I want a toy _now_ ,” Frodo whined. Bilbo focused on breathing, beating down whatever anger threatened to rise. He was _going_ to get Frodo a new stuffed bear after getting groceries, but it seemed quite unlikely now.

“You’ll just have to be patient,” Bilbo said.

Frodo pulled his hand out of Bilbo’s and ran to the store. Bilbo cursed under his breath and caught him around the waist. Frodo screamed and kicked and Bilbo set him down, letting the tantrum get out of Frodo’s system. It only strengthened his resolve to deny Frodo a new toy. It wasn’t his reputation on the line if Frodo misbehaved.

Besides, he had more than enough toys, if his toy box had any say.

Bilbo sighed. “Okay, if you want to act this way, you can wait in the toy shop and I’ll be right back.”

Frodo stopped screaming and stared at Bilbo’s retreating back before running after him. He kept his head bowed and gripped Bilbo’s trouser leg. Bilbo sighed and lifted him up.

“I don’t know how your parents or Thorin handled this kind of behavior, but I won’t tolerate it, Frodo. Is that clear?”

Frodo nodded, sniffling.

He’d put Frodo in time-out back at home—the market was far from the best place to administer a punishment after all, regardless how fed up a parent or guardian might be. It was simply uncomfortable for everyone and embarrassing for the kid.

Not that his father ever realized…

Bilbo quickly cast aside any thoughts of his father as he led Frodo through the market, picking up the groceries they were low on.

He did, however, entertain the idea of getting a babysitter to watch Frodo while he did the grocery shopping if only to eliminate the embarrassment of Frodo throwing another public tantrum. He’d pay Ham extra if it came to it or ask one of his older boys to do it.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Bilbo,” Frodo said quietly.

Well at least he was mature enough to know he did something wrong. “We’ll discuss this later,” he said, stopping at the fruit stand. “Would you like a snack?”

Frodo glanced at the food and nodded.

“Can I have an apple?” Frodo asked.

Bilbo handed him an apple to munch on. It kept Frodo distracted—or so Bilbo hoped—as they went around, adding vegetables and some pork chops to their basket. The apple must have worked. While his face was still dirty (and now getting sticky from apple juice dripping down his chin), Frodo had stopped crying and was looking around wide eyed.

He almost got away from Bilbo to swipe a biscuit, but was caught by the baker and sent back to Bilbo. The baker only shook her wrinkled finger at Bilbo, stating something about teaching bad habits.

“I used to do the same thing,” he said when the baker strode back to her stall.

“So I’m not in trouble?”

“Not for that.”

“What else did you steal?”

“When I was your age? Just pastries. I managed to get away with a whole pie once.”

Frodo smiled. “What else?”

“Uh…”

Dare he talk about stealing thirteen Dwarves from Elves, a magic ring from some unrecognizable, underground mountain creature, and the Arkenstone—never mind the fiasco that happened after that—from Thorin?

“Well, you know most of the stories of my and Thorin’s adventure by now.”

“Only the trolls and the spiders,” Frodo said. “Not everything.”

That was true.

However, Bilbo didn’t think Frodo was quite ready for the whole tale. Maybe when he came of age he could know the whole thing. Until then, he will continue to get watered down snippets from the quest.

Some things are simply not appropriate for children, no matter what fairy tales Thorin kept mentioning. The one where the lass who made her evil stepmother dance in hot iron boots seemed particularly gruesome if Bilbo had any say in it…

“When you’re older, I’ll promise to tell you the whole tale,” Bilbo said.

#

_…I miss you and wish it were safe enough to travel with Frodo so we could be together. At least then it wouldn’t be so dull here. I almost forgot how boring politics could be. And how little anything was done. Thank Mahal I was action oriented. Otherwise I fear I’d be as bad as these Dwarves. Bloody useless._

_Knowing you, Bilbo, you’d startle them to action with a few well chosen words and make me love you all the more. You always did have a better head for this stuff than I ever did and I was raised to be a king! Funny how this all works out, isn’t it?_

_I love you, men kurdu. And I will be home as soon as I am able. Say hello to Frodo for me._

_Forever yours,_

_Thorin_

Bilbo read the letter again. Frodo was making a drawing to send along to Thorin as well as an update about what he’d been learning at school since he left. Bilbo made a note to read through it and write another that would be readable if Frodo’s handwriting was terrible.

As for what he’d say to Thorin, he hadn’t a clue. He could talk about all the trouble Frodo had gotten into or highlight the good things that had happened.

He looked around at Frodo again, who was trying not to get chalk on the floor. For the most part, he was succeeding, tongue sticking out of his mouth in acute concentration. If only he could be like this all the time. Bilbo could handle that.

Catching Frodo jumping on the couch had nearly given him a heart attack and they had a long talk about the dangers of jumping on anything. He shuddered to think what would happen if Frodo bumped his head hard enough to need stitches. The time he ran away was incentive enough to not want Dora and Amaranth banging on Bilbo’s door again.

He’d figure out something to say beside parroting Thorin’s statements of “I love you and I miss you,” true though they were. Bilbo stood.

“Hungry?”

“Uh-huh,” Frodo said, getting up and carrying the papers with him to the kitchen. He set them on the table and Bilbo helped him up where he continued to draw while Bilbo started to cook supper.

“When’s Thorin coming home again?”

“Not for another few weeks,” Bilbo said, building the fire under the stove. “But he will be back sooner than we think.”

“No he won’t,” Frodo huffed.

Bilbo glanced at him. Of course Frodo would be more attached to Uncle Thorin. Uncle Thorin was more fun. Probably wasn’t as stuffy as Uncle Bilbo, no matter what Uncle Thorin said about being “natural” with children.

Bilbo took a breath, laughing at himself. Since when was he jealous of his own husband? When did he want to be Frodo’s favorite?

When did that happen?


	6. Chapter 6

“All right,” Bilbo said straightening up. “There you are. A presentable little hobbit if ever there was one.”

“I’m not little,” Frodo said. “I’m tallest in class.”

“That is very true,” Bilbo said, smiling as he handed Frodo his coat. “You are the tallest in your class. My apologies. You’re going to be tallest Hobbit in the Shire when you’re all grown. Probably as tall as Uncle Thorin. How about that?”

Frodo giggled, bouncing on his feet as Bilbo straightened his own waistcoat and grabbed his blue coat—his favorite red one was ruined beyond repair, sadly, because of the quest—and took Frodo’s hand before stepping outside. If he didn’t take Frodo’s hand, the boy would’ve shot off without Bilbo due to his excitement at visiting the Gamgees for tea.

Bilbo locked the door, ignoring how Frodo tugged on his hand. “ _Uncle_ , come _on_!” Frodo whined, tugging on Bilbo’s hand.

“I’m coming,” Bilbo said.

“You’re slow!”

Bilbo huffed and caught Frodo around the waist, carrying him under his arm. “How about this, now I can walk faster and I don’t have to deal with you tugging and pulling me as you would a stubborn mule.”

Frodo pouted and then gave him a mischievous grin. Bilbo snorted. “Little trouble maker,” he said. “You get it from the Took in you. Or perhaps Brandybuck. Maybe both. Definitely not Baggins.”

“Yeah!”

In front of the gate of the Gamgee’s house, Bilbo set Frodo down and he ran to the door as it opened and Sam ran out, tackling Frodo in a hug. The boys fell down in the mud, squealing.

“Samwise Gamgee! Get on your feet right now or so help me…” Bell shrieked. Bilbo winced, but the boys stood and at least looked contrite in the face of an angry mother. “Go wash up,” she said. The boys ran inside, tracking mud behind them and Bell covered her face. “Sorry, Bilbo.”

“No need. Boys will be boys.”

“I know,” she sighed, stepping aside to let him in. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want order in my own house. I just have a looser definition of it compared to when I had Hamson.”

“I’m sure you’ve loosened up a bit since then.”

“Considerably. Poor Son couldn’t get away with much if he tried. Then he had a harder time of it because Hal soon got the hang of blaming thins on him…well, you get the picture.”

“Sort of,” Bilbo said. He hadn’t any siblings of his own to speak of, so he couldn’t be sure.

Bell led him to the parlor and the boys returned with their coats and waistcoats forgone as they took to wrestling on the floor. Bilbo seized Frodo before he hit his head and Bell snapped at Sam again. Sam winced but Bilbo guessed they were a tad to hyper.

“How about this,” Bilbo said. “You two try to sit still for tea then after you’ve had a cup you can go out in the yard and play.” He looked at Bell for confirmation. She nodded and the boys climbed on the sofa, sitting on either side of Bilbo.

And after that one cup, the boys ran off into the yard to play while Bilbo and Bell stayed inside.

“So,” Bell said, once assured the boys would stay in the garden. “How are you?”

“Good, considering. Thorin should be back in a couple weeks at most, I hope. You never know,” he said, pouring himself another cup of tea. Bell hummed.

“And Frodo? Is there any progress there?”

“No. Not really. It’s the same old arguments. The Bagginses will snuff his individuality and the Brandybucks will make him as reckless as I am.” He scoffed. “You go on _one_ adventure and come back with a Dwarf husband—never mind he’s royalty—and you’re suddenly a pariah. My father would have had a heart attack.”

“Yes he would have,” Bell said, lips pinched together. “But I think that you’re the best for him. You’ve the wild disposition of a Took and the respectfulness of a Baggins. You used to have a hard time reconciling the two sides of who you are but now you know where to meet them. You can teach him how to do that without compromising who he is.”

Bilbo arched a brow. “Are you saying I should battle his aunts for custody?” he asked. “Dora and Amaranth aren’t going to like that—especially not after he ran off that one time.”

“Yes. Once. And _you_ found him. _You_ brought him home. Not Thorin. Not his aunts. _You_ , Bilbo Baggins, are the best thing for Frodo. Thorin has experience, yes. I’ve seen him with the children. He’s wonderful with them! Better than some Hobbits, you know. But it’s _you_ who will teach him. He may be attached to Thorin, but he looks up to you so much, Bilbo, even if you don’t notice it.” Bell scooched closer. “Look, I’m not saying it’s easy because it’s not. It’s very hard to care for a child, but you and Thorin are doing better than some parents could ever hope to do. And I don’t know what will happen to him if he learns he won’t get to stay with you two. He _wants_ to be with you and Thorin. I know he doesn’t really have a say in where he lives or not, but…”

Bilbo sighed, massaging his forehead. “Do you really think I can do this? Take care of a child?”

“Bilbo,” Bell said, pinching his chin. “You already are. You got him dressed, fed, and here in relative order. You didn’t bat an  eye when he and Sam started rolling around in the mud…hang on.”

She stood and checked outside. Her shoulders dropped. “Oh dear.”

“They’re going to need baths?”

“I’m afraid so,” she said, moving away from the window. “But we’ll worry about that after tea, shall we?” Bilbo nodded, finishing his second cup. “I stick by what I said, though: you and Thorin are doing a really good job despite all odds. He’s happy.”

“He still has nightmares.”

“Have you asked about them? Nightmares are only the fears of the subconscious. Whatever he’s dreaming about, he’ll need you and Thorin to help him through it. My guess, though, is that it’s about what happened to his parents. He’s little, and even if he doesn’t seem like it now, he’s scared of something. You have faced more than whatever it is he’s frightened of and if anyone can help him through these nightmares, it’s you.”

Bilbo stared at the empty cup, frowning.

“More tea?” Bell asked.

“Um…yes. Please.”

#

“Frodo’s doing just fine,” he announced to everyone staring at him. “He’s well and is succeeding in school…went to a tea party for the first time, though he did ruin his clothes.”

This was met with a few chuckles from the Brandybucks while the Bagginses wrinkled their noses and clicked their tongues as though Frodo’s behavior was unacceptable from a fauntling. Bilbo frowned at his cousins. He did much of the same things when he was little. Frodo’s behavior was normal, why would they condemn something a child _would_ do?

“Personally, if I may say so, I think Frodo would need a balance of both families. I know some of you disapprove of who I am and who I became, but I am both Baggins and Took. I think Frodo’s behavior is quite normal for a child of his age and _also_ healthy.”

He narrowed his eyes at Dora, engaging her in a staring contest until she looked away.

“Besides,” he continued. “He’s already living with me. Why not let him stay with me and Thorin?”

Mirabella’s eyes shone from behind her spectacles, matched with a proud closed-mouth smile.

“You’re not _challenging_ us, are you?” Amaranth asked, unable to grasp what Bilbo just said.

“I believe I will be. True, I’ll have to discuss it with my husband more, but Thorin has already expressed an interest in adopting Frodo. I may not be experienced but I’m neither my father nor my mother and where I lack experience, my husband helped his sister raise her sons and if any of you remember Fili and Kili, you’ll know that those two lads can be quite rowdy at the best of times. To add, if I take Frodo in, I will name him my heir.”

“No!” Lobelia screamed. “Lotho is meant to become the head of the Baggins family after you!”

“I never agreed to that, nor will I accept it,” Bilbo snapped.

“He already stands to become head of the Sackville clan,” Mirabella said before Lobelia stepped in. “It is hard enough for a single Hobbit to be the acting patriarch of a family. Two would be too much pressure for one Hobbit.”

It was left unsaid that no relative of Lobelia’s would be willingly accepted as the head of the Baggins family—especially if Bilbo had any say.

Mirabella looked at Bilbo. “What benefit could be gained from you adopting Frodo?”

Bilbo cleared his throat. “From what I’ve noticed, Aunt, there’s two arguments: the Bagginses would snuff Frodo’s spirit, which I actually agree with, but the Brandybucks would let him run wild. I can have no say over what would happen if he stayed with the Brandybuck clan. However, I, personally, am related to the Brandybucks through you, my aunt, who is also Frodo’s grandmother.”

The gazes turned on Mirabella. She cleared her throat. Amaranth shot to her feet. “You planned this from the beginning, didn’t you, Mother?”

Mirabella hummed.

“I’m your daughter! What makes _him_ a better guardian than me?”

“I will discuss that with you in private, dear.”

“ _Mother_!”

Mirabella stood. “I think this meeting is over.”

“You may as well have saved us the time!” Dora shrieked. Mirabella winked at Bilbo and fled the hall, Amaranth and Dora on her heels. Bilbo released the breath he didn’t realize he had held, slumping in his seat.

“Bloody relatives, never going to give me any blasted peace. I swear to Mahal and Yavanna…”

“We need to talk,” Lobelia sneered. “You’ve no right to deny—”

“I’m not denying your son anything,” Bilbo snapped, getting to his feet. “I never agreed to name Lotho my heir and if you’ve been filling his head with that _nonsense_ , the only one disappointing him is _you_. I’ve made my choice and I’m not changing it so you can get your hands on _my house_.”

Lobelia cringed and Bilbo strode to the door.

 _Perhaps I should have waited for Thorin to get home before deciding this_ , he thought, making his way toward the Gamgees. Hamfast met him outside.

“How was the meeting, Mr. Bilbo?”

“Unexpectedly eventful,” he said. “How is he?”

“He and Sam are having their naptime right now, but he should be up in a bit. How about you and Frodo stay for dinner?”

“I couldn’t—”

“Nonsense! I’m sure Bell wouldn’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t mind what?” Bell asked, standing in the doorway. Bilbo and Ham exchanged a glance.

“Bilbo staying for dinner, Sweetheart,” Ham said, offering her an apologetic smile behind his pipe. Bell hummed.

“Perhaps you boys wouldn’t mind helping then,” she said. “Come on, you two. And Bilbo, I want to know how the meeting went.”

Bilbo blanched. That’ll definitely be a tale.


	7. Chapter 7

There had not been another meeting to discuss who’d take Frodo in since, though it was five days ago.

Bilbo tucked Frodo in, telling him a story before letting the child drift off to sleep. He spent a little time in the study since drafting a new book.

Time escaped him for the most part, and the clock’s ticking became nothing more than background noise. A tempo to which Bilbo kept with his writing…He jumped, a scream alerting him to Frodo waking up from another nightmare. Bilbo lit a candle and ran to the room.

“Frodo?” he asked, stepping inside the room.

Frodo jumped out of bed and ran to him, arms wrapped around Bilbo’s middle and wept. Bilbo set the candle on the dresser before lifting Frodo up.

“Another nightmare?”

Frodo nodded.

Bilbo glanced in the room. “Would you like to talk about it?”

He shook his head.

“Okay. When you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll listen. And so will Uncle Thorin when he gets back.” He adjusted his grip on Frodo. “Would you like to sleep in my room tonight?” he asked.

Frodo sniffed and looked at him.

“When I was about your age, my parents let me sleep with them whenever I had a nightmare or was scared. It helped quite a bit back then.”

“How does it work?”

Bilbo blinked. “Well…grownups have a certain superpower,” he said. “When a little one is scared, they can go to a grownup they know and that that grownup is able to scare away whatever scares a child…I guess. To be honest, it’s so common, it’s silly to call it a superpower. However, it works for the most part. Usually it works better for parents, but maybe…we don’t have to try it.”

“I want to,” Frodo said. “I want to try.”

“Okay.”

Bilbo set him down and led him to the master bedroom. Frodo climbed into the bed, wide eyed as Bilbo quickly changed into his night clothes. Frodo was jumping on the bed when he came back.

“Oi! No jumping unless you want to conk your head on the floor!” Bilbo snapped.

Frodo bounced once before sitting back down, giggling.

Bilbo shook his head. “Of course you’d think it fun, but if you fall off the bed, it would hurt.”

“No it won’t.”

“You’ll just have to take my word for it. I’d rather _not_ explain to Uncle Thorin or your granny why I needed to get the healer in the middle of the night,” he said, tucking Frodo in. “Now, the nightmare might come back, but if it does, I’ll be right here.”

Frodo nodded, frowning. He closed his eyes and soon drifted off to sleep with Bilbo beside him.

#

“It worked!” Frodo cried out, almost startling Bilbo into ruining breakfast. “I didn’t have a nightmare!”

“Good,” Bilbo said, clearing his throat. “But you still need to sleep in your room. If the nightmare comes back, you can sleep in the big bed.”

“Okay,” Frodo said, climbing up onto a chair, waiting patiently for breakfast to come.

Bilbo set a plate down in front of Frodo and had just sat down to eat as well when someone rapped on the door. Bilbo furrowed his brow and Frodo looked confused.

“Delivery for Mr. Baggins,” a deep voice called from outside.

“Uncle Thorin!” Frodo shouted.

He jumped up and ran to the door. Bilbo followed at a more leisurely pace as Frodo pulled the door open and latched onto Thorin’s leg.

“Oof! Oh, Mahal, you’ve gotten big!” Thorin said, lifting Frodo up and over his shoulder. “The Shire looks like it is still together,” he teased, setting Frodo down and pulling Bilbo close to him. “No mass destruction?”

“Nope,” Bilbo said. “We lived. Though you are, right now, interrupting breakfast.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I can make some more for you if you’re hungry.”

“I am, thank you.”

Bilbo kissed him and went back to the kitchen. “We didn’t expect you to be back so soon. I expected another couple days or so.”

“We finished early and I figured I’d come home early. Not like there’s anything there really keeping me away from you. Any new developments in the custody battle?”

Bilbo hummed as he gathered more eggs and set the pan back on. “You could say that,” he said. “And, I should’ve written you about it as soon as it happened, but, uh, well I decided to enter it.”

Thorin stared at him. Frodo concentrated on his food, writing the conversation off to an adult thing. “So…we’re going to try and adopt him?”

“Yes, if you like. I really should’ve waited till you got home…”

Thorin jumped up and pulled Bilbo into his arms, spinning him around.

“Oi! Not in the kitchen! Thorin, put me down!” Thorin silenced him with a kiss. Bilbo smiled against it. “Still need to put me down before your food burns.”

“We will discuss this more after we take Frodo to school,” Thorin said.

Bilbo’s smile widened. “Looking forward to it.”

“Good.”

Frodo huffed. “I don’t get grownups,” he whispered.

Bilbo turned back to the stove while Thorin laughed and ruffled Frodo’s hair.

#

Thorin rolled onto his back, panting.

Bilbo propped himself up on his elbows. “I thought we were going to _discuss_ adopting Frodo.”

“What’s there to actually discuss?” Thorn asked, grinning at him. “You know my position already and now we’re in agreement.”

“Ah, so getting me to bed as soon as we got home from dropping Frodo off _wasn’t_ part of your plan?”

Thorin chuckled. “Well, I actually _was_ planning it. I missed my husband. Can you blame me?”

“No. I missed my husband, too,” Bilbo said, kissing him. Thorin cupped the back of his head, grinning. “So, does that mean you’ll come with me to the next one? It’d be good to get a little bit of support from someone I know I trust.”

“If I can go, I will,” he said, moving his hand down Bilbo’s back. “But don’t get your hopes up.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Bilbo kissed his shoulder. “It goes without saying Dora and Amaranth are _not_ pleased with the new development.”

Thorin scoffed. “I don’t care. Frodo’s ours. Besides, Fili and Kili will be glad to know they’re going to have a cousin.”

“We’ll be guardians. Not parents.”

“I don’t see the difference. Besides, this way—”

“Lobelia doesn’t get my house. I know. I also prefer it that way.”

“So do I, _Ghivashel_ ,” Thorin said, kissing him. “I love you.”

“And I love you, Thorin,” Bilbo said.

Thorin turned onto his side. “How are the nightmares? Better?”

Bilbo shook his head. “No. I let him sleep here last night and it seems to help.” Thorin hummed. “We’ll have to change the sheets tonight.”

“We’d have to do that anyway. It was a good idea. The boys used to do that when they were little. And when Kili was about Frodo’s age, he was _convinced_ there used to be monsters in his room.” Bilbo laughed. “I may have indulged them a little bit, looking around with an ax or sword and yelling like an idiot just so they could sleep soundly. It was a good idea.”

“I’m sure. You’re nephews love you. And we are _not_ telling them about Frodo until we know he’s living here till adulthood.”

Thorin groaned. “I wasn’t ready for Fili growing up, what makes you think I’m ready for _Frodo_ to be an adult?”

“Probably never,” Bilbo said, “But it’s inevitable. You know that.”

“I do,” Thorin sighed. “It changes nothing. I’m not ever going to be ready. And if they find out, let’s just pray _Kili_ shows up alone. I will _not_ be pleased if he shows up with Fili. Erebor’s still too unstable for him to abandon the kingdom.”

“It’s been ten years. I _think_ Fili is more conscientious than that. Kili, too. The boys might be goofballs, but they’re responsible in their own way. Besides, he certainly isn’t coming alone. If they find out, the whole company, save Fili and Balin, might show up.”

“Oh, Mahal!” Thorin laughed. “Well, it’d be good to see Dwalin again.”

“And Bofur and Ori.”

Thorin hummed. “Gloin would drag Gimli along just for the sake of it.”

“I wouldn’t mind that. I’d not met Gimli yet and it doesn’t seem right. Would Oin tag along?”

“Hopefully not,” Thorin snorted. “He’d not only swear up a storm, he’d probably mishear something Frodo says and _that_ is never good. No matter how funny it could be.”

Bilbo laughed. “I suppose that’s true. I can see it now: the whole company save a few and the few who stayed behind sulk for months and months and get insanely jealous of those who come.”

“Aye. I can see it: Fili would be jealous enough to say he _hates_ Kili.”

“Oh! That bad, huh?”

Thorin shrugged. “I may be exaggerating a little bit.

“I see,” Bilbo said. He turned to sit up, stretching. “Hungry?” he asked.

“Nope,” Thorin said, pinning Bilbo back to the bed.


	8. Chapter 8

“Where are you two going?” Frodo asked as he was led to the Gamgees. He accepted it well enough—why wouldn’t he if it meant playing with Sam some more? But telling him that they were going to see Granny and his other relatives would only confuse him.

Bilbo was certain Frodo would see it that they wouldn’t let him see his cousins too and frankly he didn’t want to deal with whatever tantrum Frodo might throw otherwise.

“Just to a grown up function,” Bilbo said.

“Trust us,” Thorin said, lifting Frodo over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, much to Frodo’s delight. “You’ll be dreadfully bored.”

“It’s not my fault adult stuff is boring.”

“Of course it’s not,” Bilbo agreed, grinning. “I always thought it was Thorin’s fault.” Frodo giggled and Thorin gave Bilbo a nasty glower and Bilbo just grinned innocently in response. Outside the Gamgees’ gates, Thorin set Frodo down and they exchanged a quick word with Bell as the boys stared a game of tag, screeching and yelling at the top of their lungs.

“You sure you can handle them?” Thorin asked. Bell glared at him and Bilbo rolled his eyes. “I just want to be sure—”

“Come on, we don’t want to be late. I half expect them to use tardiness as a reason we _shouldn’t_ get him,” Bilbo said, pushing Thorin away from the gate. “We’ll see you later, Bell.”

“Good luck, you two. Keep an eye on that husband of yours.”

“Always,” Bilbo said.

“Really?”

“Bell’s already had three children before Sam. Two of which are boys. She knows what she’s doing better than anyone. Besides, Frodo’s neither Fili nor Kili. Thankfully, those two have outgrown their childish antics.”

“By Mahal, I hope so…”

“They _have_. Don’t you remember the letter they sent last week about Fili meeting that girl and Kili _finally_ managing to braid an intention braid in Tauriel’s hair?”

Thorin groaned as though in pain. He was getting a little better, but having an Elf for a niece-in-law one day was still not sitting very well with him.

Bilbo patted his shoulder. “I know the thought is painful, but think of it this way: the relationship between Mirkwood and Erebor can only improve if Kili and Tauriel wed. Besides, Thranduil is the one who’s watching them court. That must _hurt_.”

“That does make me feel a little better…”

“See, only good can come between a marriage between an Elf and a Dwarf, just as it had for our marriage,” Bilbo gave his elbow a squeeze and winked. “Besides, if a marriage is going to back intercultural relationships, it may as well be done on one’s own free will, right?”

“Yes, dear. You’re always right.”

Bilbo snorted. “Feel free to call me out when I’m not.”

Thorin blinked. “Is that a trick question?”

Bilbo snorted. “I love you, Thorin.”

“No, I really want to know.”

“If I am wrong, as in really, unacceptably wrong, please feel free to correct me.” Thorin hummed, wrapping his arm around Bilbo’s shoulders.

“I can do that.”

“Good. I will always do it,” Bilbo said, pecking Thorin’s cheek. They slowed to a halt outside Dora’s house. “Are you sure you want to be here? It’s probably going to get messy.”

“All the more reason for me to be here regardless whether I want to or not. Besides, it’s been a while since I saw you handle negotiations of any sort. All I’m going to do is look as intimidating as possible.”

Bilbo hummed. “Not sure that’s the best plan, but we can make it work. Honestly, I don’t even know what I’m going to say besides what I’ve already said. I _am_ related to both of his parents, after all.”

Thorin cupped Bilbo’s face in his hands and pressed his forehead to his. “You are quick of mind and tongue, _ghivashel_ ,” he said. “You’ll say what you must. Also, you _could_ mention that sending him to a different home will only heighten the feelings of abandonment he has been feeling.”

“I suppose.”

“That he had expressed that he wants to stay with us is another factor and his grandmother is reasonable enough to know that ripping him from one home to another is not healthy.”

“All right,” Bilbo said. “Thank you. And do your best to look extra intimidating today. I don’t want anyone going up and feeling your biceps again.”

“I’m not sure that really deters them, but I’ll try.”

“That’s all I can ask,” Bilbo said, kissing him. He stepped away from Thorin and entered through the gate. He knocked on the door and stuffed his hands in his pockets as he waited for Dora to answer the door. When it opened, Dora glared at them and stepped aside with barely veiled contempt.

Thorin leaned down. “What did you do when I was away?”

“The Bagginses weren’t pleased with Frodo acting like a child when I mentioned it at the last meeting,” he said, smiling at Thorin. “I called them out.”

Thorin blinked. Then his mouth opened into a grin. “You did? Mahal, I wish I could’ve seen it!”

“Well, what was I supposed to do? Let someone crush him as my father tried to do to me? Or give him free reign without any guidance?”

“Neither,” Thorin said. They stepped into the living room and took their seats. “You won’t suppress him and you won’t neglect to give him guidance,” he said. “You found your balance. You can help him find his. You already are and you’re so good with him.”

“So are you.”

“But I’m not a Hobbit. There’s only so much I can do to connect with him. I can teach him how to work a forge and how to fight, but when it comes to things Hobbits value, that’s _you_ , Bilbo. All you. I can’t teach him to garden or how to maneuver around a kitchen,” Thorin said. “He’ll look to you for guidance more than he will me.”

“Is that supposed to sound so intimidating?”

“Trust me: it’s not as bad as you think it is.” Thorin kissed Bilbo’s hand and Dora entered with Amaranth and Mirabella. Bilbo frowned.

“Where’s everyone else?”

“I thought it’d be good to get the three of you in the room—not that you’re not welcome here, Thorin. It’s good to see you,” Mirabella said, smiling at him. Thorin nodded politely. “And you might as well join us anyway since, if Bilbo is going to adopt Frodo, you will be too.”

“I’m aware,” Thorin said.

From there, Bilbo felt as though he’d been pushed into a debate. And perhaps that was exactly what the meeting was. A debate over who would be the best guardian. The whole thing felt utterly ridiculous. Especially when both of Frodo’s aunts turned on him, demanding when he’d run off into the blue for another adventure.

“I don’t intend to go on another one. Not any time soon, anyway,” he responded calmly. “However, I do see how that would be worrying. Believe me, being here does annoy me countlessly. The things I’ve seen make the fights and arguments here seem practically _petty_ sometimes compared to the dangers that lie outside the Shire’s borders. I’ve seen true corruption, and greed, and evil and the Shire thinks that a petty squabble over _chickens_ is a cause for trepidation.”

Thorin snorted, only earning an elbow to the ribs from Bilbo.

“Believe me,” he continued, “compared to the suffering I had seen caused by greed, much of what goes on in the Shire is rather ridiculous. However, I can’t let Frodo end up with a childhood like mine and unable to find a balance between two very opposing natures which is already being imposed on him. But truly I have no intention of going on an adventure. If I do leave the Shire, the furthest East I go these days is to Bree and to the mountains in the west. Both are journeys which Frodo can make when he’s older. To add, if Thorin and I do adopt him, he’d be the next head of the Baggins family, unless we want Lotho taking the title.”

Dora winched. “That is a foul thought,” she agreed. “But would it be necessary for him to live with you?”

“The heir is usually the son of the family’s patriarch, which is Bilbo and it’s unlikely he’ll have a child of his own,” Mirabella said. “Normally the heir lives with the patriarch so that he may learn what he needs to do once his time comes to take over.”

“True it is tradition, but no one ever said it was set in stone that the heir of a family must live with the patriarch,” Amaranth said. “Could it not be possible to name him the heir of the Baggins family and inheritor of Bag End, but have him go and learn how to do his duty from Bilbo while living with either one of us?”

“Possible? Yes. Practical, I do not think so,” Mirabella said. “Thorin, you raised two children before, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And they are your heirsons?”

“The eldest of my nephews is now king of Erebor, which is a position I’ve groomed him for since he lost his father. The youngest is a counselor, ambassador, and military head. Despite their education, they grew up with as healthy a childhood as I and their mother, my sister, could provide them.”

“Do you think they’d be as prepared for the roles they are in now if you were partially absent in their lives?” she asked.

Thorin shook his head. “No. They wouldn’t be,” he said. “Rather, I think the opposite. If I were asked these questions ten years ago, I would say they weren’t ready at all, but since my marriage and coming here, my nephews have surprised me with their competence in raising Erebor from the ground up. They’ve not only successfully managed to establish trade with neighbors, but also provided jobs for miners, builders, and artisans. Fili and Kili are co-rulers in all but name. They’ve always functioned best together. Normally a land would not have two kings, but the team they’ve formed has done their kingdom much good. Not only are they royalty, they were raised lower class and know firsthand the importance of the people beneath them more than any other king could possibly know. They’re better than I could ever hope to be. What they do upsets most of the upper class quite a bit, but everything they’ve done has been for the better of the whole. And I think Bilbo and I could instill the same discipline that made my nephews the Dwarves they are today in Frodo and from that, he can the best Hobbit any could hope to be.”

Mirabella hummed. “I suppose that will have to do for today,” she said. “I’ll send word to Ruby. We will both discuss this and we’ll decide for sure the next time we meet.”


	9. Chapter 9

“That was not as bad as I thought it’d be,” Bilbo said once far out of Dora’s line of hearing. “I had expected much more arguing than what had gone on. I even expected those two shrews to scream in my ears till they bled.”

“Thank Mahal for your aunt then. She’s a sound head on her shoulders. Though I _wasn’t_ expecting her to ask me to say a part.”

“I don’t think any of us were. But you made a good point about Fili and Kili needing you to be present in their lives for them to be the Dwarves they are today.”

Thorin chuckled. “I don’t tell them how proud of them I am nearly enough.”

“Neither of us do, but I think they’re too busy ruling to bother knowing we think they’re doing a good job,” Bilbo said. “Especially since they’re courting ladies on top of everything else they’re doing!”

Thorin nodded. “Apparently Kíli has more _tact_ than I ever had, if Balin and Thranduil are to be believed.”

Bilbo stood on his toes and kissed Thorin’s cheek. “You _are_ tactless, Love. But at least I don’t have to worry about you trying to sugarcoat the truth. Recall when he you came here.”

Thorin blushed and ran a hand through his hair, Bilbo locked his arm around his arm. “You just showed up a month or two after I returned home and I was just beginning to accept a life without you when you nearly broke down my door.”

“I recall you slapping me.”

“I know I did. Like it or not, it was well deserved, given that I had given you up for dead and then I think I slapped you again because you traveled in _winter_ of all times. Easily could have died anyway given the extremity of your wounds. Thankfully it wasn’t winter for much longer. It was nearly summer by the time you arrived.”

Thorin shrugged and Bilbo nudged his elbow into his ribs.

“I also remember you letting me hit you twice.”

“Thrice,” Thorin corrected. “You were furious I abdicated. Something about not venturing all the way to the other side of the world to help me reclaim my home only to give it all up and go after _just a Hobbit_. I don’t know what it is about you, but I can’t really say how many kings and lords you’ve charmed!”

Bilbo grinned. “Is that jealousy I hear?”

Thorin’s blush deepened. “And if it is? I am not overly fond of how Thranduil described you as _delightful_ nor Elrond’s continued invitations to return to Rivendell _nor_ Bard’s constant inquiries into your health. Don’t get me _started_ on the lords of the Blue Mountains. Or Dain, while we’re discussing this.”

Bilbo laughed. “Don’t worry, I happen to love my grouchy husband who proposed with a bright red cheek on both knees.”

“You know, I still think you were loopy when you accepted my proposal.”

“You think we’d be here today if I was?”

“Yes,” Thorin said, kissing Bilbo’s hand. “Maybe we would not married for as long as we have been, but yes. I am not easily deterred.”

Bilbo scoffed. “True. Taking on a fire-breathing dragon with only thirteen others and no wizard to back us up is both proof of your resilience though others may find it idiotic and suicidal.”

“And you say I’m brutally honest,” he mumbled.

Bilbo half leaned against him. “Just because I’m more tactful than you are does _not_ mean I won’t tell you what I’m thinking,” he said, grinning.

Thorin sighed and wrapped his arm around Bilbo’s shoulder. “Why do I feel like we’re dragging Frodo into something unprecedented?”

“He’s already in it, I think,” Bilbo said. Thorin grunted his agreement as they stopped outside the Gamgees’ house to see Sam running out.

“Frodo had a nightmare,” he declared, eyes wide. There was a red spot on his cheek.

Bilbo and Thorin glance at each other before following Sam inside. Bell rocked Frodo in her arms as he wept and hiccupped. As soon as he saw Bilbo and Thorin, he jumped out of Bell’s arms and latched onto Bilbo.

“Okay,” Bilbo said, lifting him up. “Everything all right?”

“Mostly,” Bell said. “I put him down for a nap and a few minutes later, he’s screaming. Sam tried to wake him, but got a little hurt in the process.”

“It wasn’t Frodo’s fault. It’s the water’s,” Sam said. Bell hushed him, petting his hair and whispering. Bilbo frowned, adjusting his grip on Frodo’s waist.

Water?

_Of course!_

“Thank you, Bell,” Thorin said.

“It’s no trouble,” she assured them. “He wouldn’t tell me what’s wrong, though.”

“I said it’s the water!” Sam declared.

“Sam, water can’t hurt you.”

“Yes it does!”

Bell sighed, and lifted him up. “Okay, I think someone’s a bit cranky. Say goodbye to Frodo.”

“But _Mama_ …”

“Do you want to say goodbye to Sam, Frodo?” Bilbo asked. Frodo clung tighter to him and looked over his shoulder before giving Sam a shaky wave. “There we go. Goodbye, Bell, and thank you.”

Once a couple more goodbyes were exchanged, they headed on their way home. Once inside, Bilbo motioned for Thorin to follow him into the living room.

“Frodo, do you drown in your nightmares? Like your parents did?” Frodo tensed and clung tighter to Bilbo before nodding. Bilbo rubbed his back.

“Other times it’s someone else. You or Uncle Thorin. Everyone keeps disappearing and leaving me all alone and I don’t want to be alone—”

Bilbo hushed him. “Thorin and I aren’t going to disappear. Nothing bad is going to happen to us and we aren’t going to leave you.”

“Mama and Papa did.”

“Not because they wanted to, Frodo,” Thorin said. “Truly they didn’t want to leave you all alone. And you’re not alone, little one. Uncle Bilbo and I are here. And Granny and Nana and your other uncles and aunties and all your cousins, too. And your friends.”

“There’s so many people who are here that love you a lot, Frodo,” Bilbo added. “And we won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

“You know, Frodo,” Thorin said. “The best way to overcome a fear is to face it.”

Frodo looked at Thorin. “I know it sounds scary and it wouldn’t be scary I you weren’t afraid. It’s _okay_ to be scared. Lots of warriors are scared when they go to fight. Do you not know, little one, why they fight anyway?” Frodo shook his head. “Because they don’t want to run away from what scares them. They face it and in facing their fears, they become stronger.”

“Are you scared of things?”

“I am scared of a lot of things. Uncle Bilbo’s one of them.” Bilbo stuck his tongue at Thorin and Frodo giggled. “He can be very scary when he wants to be, but I’m still here because as scary as he is sometimes, he makes me a stronger and better Dwarf than I could ever hope to be. So I think that we can help you conquer your fear of water. We’ll take little steps, okay? How about we go on a picnic by the river’s shore tomorrow if the weather holds? We won’t go into the water, but we will be close to it. Little by little, Bilbo and I will help you see that water might be dangerous, but there’s nothing to be scared of. Okay?”

Frodo’s lip wobbled. “I don’t want to go into the water.”

“And we aren’t going to make you go into the water,” Bilbo assured him, giving Thorin a pointed, no-room-for-argument glance. Thorin nodded.

“Not until you’re ready,” he said. “And never when the weather is bad. Trust me, that’s never pleasant.”

“Is that fair?” Bilbo asked. Frodo nodded and Thorin lifted him up. “All right, want to try taking another nap? Bilbo and I will be close if you have another nightmare.”

Frodo nodded again and laid his head on Thorin’s shoulder. “Are you really scared of Uncle Bilbo?”

Bilbo arched a brow at Thorin, who grinned. “Sometimes.”

 _It’s not like I bite!_ Bilbo signed at Thorin, who smirked.

 _You do bite sometimes_ , he signed back before escaping down the hall. Bilbo hid his face in his hand, fighting down the blush tinging his cheeks and ears.

He heard Thorin return and a pair of arms wrapped around him. “You really do bite sometimes. I’ve enough scars as it is without you adding to them.”

“You are _so_ lucky he doesn’t understand Iglishmek.”

“True,” Thorin said. “It would take the fun out of everything.”

“ _Thorin_!” Bilbo snapped, slapping Thorin’s leg since he couldn’t really reach his face. “Are you really scared of me?”

“Depends on what you mean by scared,” he said quietly. “In the normal sense, no. In that you can deny me food, sex, a roof—”

“Oi, all that is cruel!” Bilbo said, wide eyed. “I’d never kick you out of the house! Maybe the bed if I was angrier than normal, but trust me, no one in this house is going to starve if I can do something about it. As for sex, why would I want to deny you that? Seems a bit backwards if you think about it, since if you’re being denied sex, so am I. In short, this fear of me you have is unfounded and partially irrational.”

“Only partially?”

“Well if you get gold-sick again, I won’t hesitate to steal any big, shiny jewels from you again. Believe me, considering what happened _last time_ it takes more courage than you think.”

“I know,” he sighed. “But I won’t. I’m quite sure I won’t.”

“Thorin, I wouldn’t be able to joke about it if I thought you’d fall again. I love you and I trust you. That’s all that matters to me. Besides, how exactly are you going to convince Frodo to step into the river?”

“I don’t know. I _do_ know that it won’t be any time soon. I just want him to be comfortable near it for now. And I’ll teach him basic swimming. He doesn’t need to be a strong swimmer or fast. He just needs to be decent enough to prevent what happened to his parents to happen to him. But I’m not going to force him to go in. That would be…counterproductive.”

Bilbo hummed, leaning against him. “It would,” he agreed. “But I trust you. If you think this is the best way to help him get over it.”

“I don’t know if it’s the best, but it’s the only thing I can think of,” Thorin said. “I don’t know if it will help his nightmares, but I do know that if he conquers his fear, he’ll be stronger and better for it. And I wasn’t lying to him about you being a fear I needed to conquer. I know I was an ass on the quest till after the goblin caves, but I was trying to protect you while also coming to terms with finding my One.”

“Says the Dwarf who vowed he wouldn’t guarantee my safety or be responsible for what happened to me,” Bilbo said, smirking at him. “You were having quite the time contradicting yourself and confusing me while at it.”

“I should apologize for that.”

“You should,” Bilbo said, his grin widening and untangling himself from Thorin’s embrace. He kissed him. “But later. I really ought to get dinner started so that Frodo has something to eat when he wakes up.”

“I best let you get to that then,” Thorin said, stealing a kiss before letting Bilbo go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seeing BOFA today...


	10. Chapter 10

Bilbo closed the basket and locked it. He set it aside as he quickly wiped the table, going through his mental checklist again:

 _Make lunch._ Done.

_Pick Thorin up at the forge._

_Fetch Frodo from school._

Short enough, but he was running a little late from realizing he didn’t have enough bread to make as many sandwiches as he wanted. It’d probably be best to get his husband _after_ picking Frodo up. Bilbo tossed the cloth into a hamper of dirty clothes, lifted the basket, and left the house, locking the door behind him as he made his way toward the school.

Frodo was playing tag in the field with his cousins and Sam when he arrived at the school grounds. It was an old smial converted into different classrooms. To say it was a school was almost a praise. Children as young as six and as old as fourteen would come and learn basic reading and writing, but beyond that, it was more a daycare while parents were at work and allowed children to gather and make friends.

Education, for the most part, was left primarily to parents. Children learned to cook and clean at their mother’s and father’s hips as well as gardening. Tweens would concentrate on different studies either under a parent or a master—for instance, Thorin had a pair of apprentices who were bound to be some of the best blacksmiths in all the Shire. No one better to teach them than a Dwarf, after all.

Frodo ran to Bilbo, grinning. Instead of hugging him, though, Frodo clapped his hands around the basket, trying to get a whiff of what was inside. Bilbo pulled it out of his reach. “Not until we get Thorin and find a place by the river.” Frodo’s smile died.

“Do we _have_ to go to the river?”

“No one will go inside the water,” he promised. “And we’ll be too far from shore for the water to even touch us.” Frodo nodded, staring at his feet. Bilbo ruffled his hair. “Buck up, lad. It’s not all bad. How about you say goodbye to your friends and we’ll go pick Uncle Thorin up from work.”

Frodo nodded and ran back to his friends, bidding them goodbye and hugging them before racing back to Bilbo’s side. Once at the forge, Bilbo tightened his hold on Frodo’s hand. He’d never been there before and there were _far_ too many ways for a fauntling to hurt himself inside.

“Thorin?” he called, peering inside, his eyes adjusted to the darkness and his skin to the heat. Frodo hid his face in Bilbo’s leg.

There was one last ring of a hammer striking iron and Thorin approached, wiping his brow with a napkin. His hair was pulled back in a messy bun in the back of his head to relieve his neck. Beads of sweat trailed from Thorin’s scalp down his face and into his beard. He wasn’t wearing a shirt under his apron.

“I know it’s hot out, and _hotter_ inside, Thorin, but I still would appreciate it if you _wore_ a tunic, even if a thin one.”

“Would it matter? It’s just going to get dirty anyway,” Thorin said, pressing his lips to Bilbo’s, “Is there time to take a—never mind.”

“What?”

“I was hoping to wash off a bit before picking Frodo up, but I see that won’t be happening.”

“Thorin’s it’s nearly five o’clock. I had to run to the market to get everything,” Bilbo said. “And I didn’t want him wondering where we were, so I picked him up first.”

“It’s fine,” Thorin said, kissing him again. “But I am taking a bath when we get home after Frodo.”

“Fair enough,” Bilbo said, adjusting his hold on the basket as Thorin lifted Frodo into the air.

“Uncle Thorin! No! Put me down! You stink!”

“Oh? Too bad, that’s what happens when you work in a forge, _men melekhunith_ : you smell.”

“Down!”

“Okay, Bilbo, trade.” He took the basket while Bilbo hefted Frodo out of his arms. “Uncle Bilbo smells better, right?”

“Lots better.”

Bilbo shook his head. Thorin grinned. “I strongly agree. Compared to this smelly old dwarf—” Bilbo smacked Thorin’s arm, blushing.

“Shut up,” he said, setting Frodo on his feet and leading him to the river. “Can we _not_ discuss how much _I_ stink?”

“But you _don’t_ stink.” Thorin said, taking a rather deliberate sniff. “You smell like fruit and fresh bread. Much better than a sweaty Dwarf.”

Bilbo’s nose wrinkled. “You’re so lucky I love you even when you’re ripe.”

“Really? I thought I was lucky you love me at all.”

“That too,” Bilbo said with a cheeky grin.

“ _No kissing_!” Frodo whined, tugging on Bilbo’s hand. “You kiss too much!”

Bilbo and Thorin exchanged grins. Bilbo swept Frodo up into his arms and kissed one cheek while Thorin kissed the other so quickly Frodo hadn’t the time to realize what had happened by the time he was set back on his feet. He gazed at them with horror and rubbed his cheeks where he’d been kissed.

“Uncle Thorin’s beard is itchy,” he announced.

“It is itchy,” Bilbo agreed. “But some dwarves have beards so long they reach their toes.”

Thorin snorted. “Maybe the _really_ old Dwarves,” he said, “But it’s rare for a Dwarf to have hair _that_ long. To their belts, at most.”

“So says the Dwarf who admitted wanting a beard long enough to tuck into his belt.”

“I tried. Too many Hobbits asked me why I was growing it out and suggesting I shave it!”

Bilbo shook his head. “Long or short, I prefer you with a beard. You’ll have to excuse them, though. Whoever said _that_ has yet to understand that asking a Dwarf to shave his beard is like asking a Hobbit to wear shoes!”

“Thank you. That is the best analogy I have ever heard on the subject.”

“No shoes!” Frodo said. “Or socks.”

“What about in winter?” Bilbo asked.

“Only in winter,” Frodo huffed in agreement, running ahead.

“Frodo keep close!” Bilbo shouted after him. “You know, when he ran off, I found him hiding by the river’s bank…why would he be against being near it now?”

Thorin shrugged. “Some days you’re braver than others. For now, we’ll keep our distance from shore.”

“You don’t think it’s odd?”

“I think it’s very odd,” Thorin said. “But we’ll overcome that when we get to it.”

Bilbo hummed, letting Thorin guide them to a spot on a hill looking over the shore.

They laid the blanket out and set rocks on the corners to keep it from flying away. Thorin chased after Frodo while Bilbo brought out the sandwiches, pasta, vegetables, fruit, and juice. Thorin returned with Frodo over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes and set him on the blanket.

 After they ate, they laid on their back, pointing at clouds and identifying them to an animal or landscape. Frodo escaped to climb a tree nearby, allowing Bilbo and Thorin a chance to exchange lazy kisses as the sun began its gradual descent behind the mountains.

“Where is Frodo?!”

Bilbo sat up. Amaranth glared at them, arms crossed over her chest.

“I’ll get him,” Thorin said, leaving Bilbo to fend off Amaranth. They stood and Thorin approached the tree Frodo had climbed into while Bilbo met Amaranth’s glare.

“Where is he?”

“He’s fine, went to climb a tree. Lots of fauntlings climb trees Amaranth.” He frowned and furrowed his brow. “Do you think we left him at home alone? Or at school? Madam, Thorin and I—”

“What if he fell?”

“It _happens_ ,” Bilbo sighed. “The worst that happens is a broken arm. I broke many bones growing up. It’s not that bad and it’s certainly easy to deal with.”

“My sister—”

“Would know this,” Bilbo said, trying to keep his irritation out of his voice. “Amaranth, I don’t know why you’re insistent in believing that Thorin and I are unfit guardians, but Frodo is safe. He’s healthy and he’s as happy as a fauntling can be. We were just enjoying the afternoon together.”

“As a family?” she hissed. “It’s not been finalized that you and Thorin will win custody! Until that day, you are _not_ his legal guardian! You and Thorin are _not_ his parents _nor are you his next of kin_!”


	11. Chapter 11

Her words fell on his ears like an unprovoked slap. He stood, speechless, as the truth behind her words sunk in. He took a breath.

“Frodo wants to stay with me and Thorin. Neither of us has a problem taking him in. He’s happy and that should be all that matters to anyone. I don’t care if you’re his next of kin, or if Dora’s his next of kin. I don’t want him to grow up oppressed as I was nor do I want him to be without structure.”

“You—”

“I am not finished,” Bilbo said, narrowing his eyes at her.

Amaranth took a step back. Behind him, Thorin and Frodo approached.

“I know I am not his father,” Bilbo said. “I know we are not his next of kin. However, there is no reason behind your vehement disapproval of Thorin and me taking him in. Neither Thorin nor I plan to run off on an adventure any time soon.

“Yes, we make frequent trips to the Blue Mountains and if we win, Frodo will be going with us when he’s old enough to travel. And if more trips happen before he is old enough to make the journey, one of us will stay behind. If you’ve not noticed, it worked before and I have confidence it will work again.

“I never liked the idea that we operate suppressing our children’s free will. Like it or not, they are more autonomous than we may assume and Frodo _wants_ to stay with us. Should we not take that into consideration?”

“He is a child! They may have autonomy, Bilbo, but they do not know what is best for them.”

“And we know any better? We can only strive to be better than our parents,” he snarled. “And I _intend_ to be better than my parents. I’m not the only one here who’s taking a gamble. Neither you nor Dora is married. Neither of you has a child of your own. I’ll admit I had my doubts at first, but at least I have Thorin to guide me through this just in case.”

Frodo tackled his leg, hugging it.

Amaranth knelt, fixing the skirts around her legs. “Frodo, how are you?”

“Good,” he said. “But you’re making Uncle Thorin mad.”

Bilbo turned around to see Thorin arms crossed, basket in one hand, and a stormy glare fixed on them. Bilbo shuddered he’d not seen Thorin this furious in nearly a decade or so.

“Uncle Thorin’s scary when he’s mad.”

Bilbo lifted him up and Amaranth stood. “Yes, he’s very scary when he’s mad.” He turned to Amaranth. “I’d leave. Now. We’ll discuss at the next meeting.”

“Frodo,” Amaranth said. “Would you really want to stay with people who are as scary as them? Do you not know they’ve killed people?”

“They were in a war. People die in wars. It’s nobody’s fault. And they killed orcs, goblins, and spiders, so I don’t care. They aren’t scary. Only Uncle Thorin and he’s only scary when he’s mad.”

Bilbo adjusted his grip on Frodo, moving him a bit higher on his hip. “I think we’re done here,” he said. “So please excuse us, Amaranth, but I think we’ll be heading home now.”

Bilbo strode by her and Thorin followed, giving Amaranth as dark a glare as he could before following them.

The rest of the evening was silent. Bilbo made Frodo supper while Thorin gave Frodo a bath. After his sixth meal, Frodo was led back to the bathroom to brush his teeth while Bilbo dragged a comb through his hair.

“Are you and Uncle Thorin angry?”

Bilbo looked at Frodo’s expression in the mirror. “Yes, lad,” he said. “But not at you. Never at you. It’s been a difficult few months for everyone.”

“Why?”

Bilbo swallowed. “Your aunts and uncles have been trying to decide who you’ll live with from now on. Uncle Thorin and I are trying to help you stay here. You still want to stay with us, right?”

Frodo nodded, spitting froth out of his mouth. “I want to stay here.”

“And we’re trying to make sure you can. But your Auntie Amaranth and Auntie Dora want you to stay with one of them. Nana and Granny will have the final say.”

“Do they want me to live with one of my aunts?”

Bilbo bit his lip. He didn’t think that was the case at all. Mirabella specifically had him and Thorin take Frodo in, and she has done nothing but support the idea of Frodo staying with them.

“Your granny wants you to stay with us, too. So in a way, it’s very likely you will stay with us. Nothing’s been decided yet. But your Nana, well, she hasn’t been to very many meetings. So I don’t know what she wants yet.”

“Will you know soon?”

“Maybe,” Bilbo said, leading him out of the bathroom. “How about you go ask Uncle Thorin to tell you a bedtime story?”

“What if he’s still mad?”

“He isn’t mad at you, Frodo, so don’t worry if he looks scary. I think he’d like to tell you a story. It might help him calm down.”

Frodo nodded and pattered to the living room. Bilbo returned to the kitchen, deciding a pot of chamomile and lavender tea would help his own nerves.

He went to ask Thorin if he also wanted a cup and stopped, leaning against the wall to watch Thorin recount the tale of Durin the Deathless to Frodo, softly singing the ballad as Frodo leaned against his chest, drifting to sleep.

_A king he was on carven throne_

_In many-pillared halls of stone_

_With golden roof and silver floor,_

_And runes of power upon the door._

_The light of sun and star and moon_

_In shining lamps of crystal hewn_

_Undimmed by cloud of shade or night_

_There shown forever far and bright…_

Thorin glanced at Bilbo and halted in his singing for a short moment. It wasn’t a long enough pause for Frodo to notice, drifting to sleep as he was. He licked his lips and continued the melody, lifting Frodo into his arms and carrying him to bed.

_Unwearied then were Durin’s folk._

_Beneath the mountains, music woke:_

_The harpers harmed, the minstrels sang,_

_And at the gates the trumpets rang._

Bilbo pulled the blankets away. Thorin set Frodo down on the bed and the blankets were set on top of him. Bilbo pulled a stray curl away from Frodo’s face.

_…But still the sunken stars appear_

_In dark and windless Mirrormere;_

_There lies his crown in water deep,_

_Till Durin wakes again from sleep._

They closed the door.

“Tea?” Bilbo asked. “I put a kettle on if you want.”

“I would like that,” Thorin said. They went to the kitchen. “By Durin, your cousins are infuriating!” He exclaimed, sitting at the table.

“More so then Lobelia?”

“I’ll admit Amaranth got under my skin a bit today—well done putting her in her place, by the way.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo said, adding the leaves to the pot. “But I think having you glaring over my shoulder is just as effective.”

Thorin snorted. “But _no one_ is more infuriating than Lobelia. She got close though.”

Bilbo added the water, letting it seep while getting some pound cake. “You think we have even a little chance at winning?”

“Yes,” Thorin said, “More than a little.”

“I just hope it’ll be over soon if you’re right.”

“It will be,” Thorin said. “Once it’s done, it’s done.”

“But what if it’s not?”

Thorin took his hands in his and pressed kisses to Bilbo’s knuckles. “It _will_ be done. And if they try to contest us again, we _will_ fight to keep Frodo. I promise you, _Âzyunguh,_ I won’t let them take Frodo from us. If need be, we can get the company here.”

Bilbo smiled. “That would be a sight, but I don’t think it’d work in our favor. Still, it’d be good to see the others when all this is over.”

“Pity Fili won’t be able to come.”

“He could. There has to be someone there he trusts enough to keep Erebor in order while he’s away.”

“The only he and I would trust with the throne is Dis and she’ll want to come, too.”

Bilbo hummed and filled two cups with steaming tea. “How about we take a trip back to Erebor when Frodo’s in his tweens? Till then, they’ll just have to figure out how to come here on their own.”

Thorin nodded, lifting the cup. “Durin’s beard, I wish an Orc came knocking on the door right now if only to relieve me this ire.”

“Well, I’d rather you hack away at a tree in the forest,” Bilbo said. “If an Orc came, surely there’d be more.”

Thorin took a sip. “You’re relatives are infuriating when they want to be.”

“I know. You’ve handled them marvelously so far.”

“Most of the time I get mildly annoyed with them. Unless it’s Lobelia, then I’m usually searching for something to bash her head in with.”

Bilbo hummed. “While I agree she can be quite infuriating, I’m afraid I have to ask that you resist bashing her head in, even if it does relieve many headaches.”

He mixed in some milk and sugar, sweetening the liquid within while cooling it down as well. He took a sip, letting the warmth settle in his stomach.

“We’ll talk to Ruby and Mirabella about it later. For now, how about we just pay attention to the positive. Frodo had fun for the most part, I think.”

“And I’m sure he’d have had more fun if his infernal aunt had left well enough alone.”

“I agree, but wouldn’t you also be worried too if you thought Fili and Kili were all alone somewhere?”

“I would, but at least I know better than to downright accuse my sister of neglect,” Thorin said, stabbing his fork into the pound cake. It went through the porcelain and into the wood. Bilbo jumped and Thorin released the fork. “Sorry.”

Bilbo stood and circled the table to sit beside him. “You heard more than I thought, didn’t you?” he asked, rubbing Thorin’s back.

“She’s got a loud voice. Half the Shire must’ve heard her.” Bilbo kissed his forehead.

“I love you, Thorin, but please don’t let what Amaranth said get to you. It won’t do us much good. You’ve got enough grudges to last three lifetimes. You don’t need another. After we drop Frodo off at school, we’ll talk to Ruby and Mirabella and get this settled once and for all.”

“Will they listen to us?”

“They’re Frodo’s grandmothers,” Bilbo said, cupping Thorin’s face, foreheads pressed together. “They’ll listen to us. Besides, I don’t think Mirabella has been impressed with either Dora or Amaranth lately.” Thorin’s hand slid to the back of Bilbo’s neck and kissed his lips.

“Tomorrow, then,” Thorin agreed.

“Yes. Come on, finish your tea and we’ll go to bed.”

Bilbo doused the fire and put the dishes in the sink to be dealt with in the morning. The barely touched pound cake was put back in the cupboard with the promise of being eaten in the morning. Thorin threw away the broken plate and bent fork before following Bilbo to their room.

Frodo screamed. Bilbo and Thorin glanced at each other before checking on him. Frodo hugged Bilbo’s legs, hyperventilating.

“Another nightmare?” Frodo nodded and Bilbo lifted him up. “All right,” he said. “Come on, then.” He settled Frodo between him and Thorin, waiting for Frodo’s shivers to subside so they could sleep.

And when sleep claimed them at last, Bilbo’s sleep was dreamless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics found here http://lit.genius.com/J-r-r-tolkien-song-of-durins-awakening-annotated


	12. Chapter 12

“She _what_?!” Mirabella screeched, dropping her tea cup. Bilbo saved it, setting the cup on the table. Mirabella sighed and massaged her forehead. “In the name of the Green Lady, I swear I didn’t raise her to act this way! I am so sorry, Bilbo.”

“We took care of it, but—”

Mirabella raised her hand. “It is still inexcusable. When Ruby gets here with Thorin we will discuss it further, but I can promise you that Amaranth will _not_ be taking Frodo in. Or Dora. If we wanted either of them to, Frodo would already be living with one of them.”

Bilbo stared at his aunt for a moment, then chuckled. “You old bat,” he mumbled. “You planned this from the start.”

Mirabella smirked. “Many forget that the Old Took had more than one daughter,” she said. “And Ruby isn’t so old that she doesn’t remember what it was like watching you interact with your own father. As do I. I never liked it. Not to say that your father didn’t love you because he did, but he worried.”

Bilbo’s smile had died at the mention of Bungo. “I know,” he said. “But I don’t find comfort in that or excuse it.” Mirabella arched a brow.

“Well, in any case, you’ve already proven to be the better fit for Frodo. You and Thorin both. He is a Baggins and a Brandybuck, _and_ a Took. If anyone can help him balance those three natures that will sooner or later battle around inside Frodo, it’s you and Thorin. It is a happy coincidence that he likes living with you and Thorin. I had worried about that. And it solves several problems which we’ve already discussed. You need an heir and Frodo needs a safe and loving home.”

Bilbo drank some tea, avoiding his aunt’s gaze. “I still doubt.”

“Every parent doubts,” Mirabella said. “The best you can do is raise them to the best of your ability and teach them how to avoid the same mistakes you made.”

Bilbo wanted to laugh. Mistakes. What sort of mistakes? Does stealing your future husband’s birthright count as a mistake? Probably, but what if your future husband is not in his right mind at the moment?

He sighed. “I don’t know.”

“You’ve done well enough so far.”

“He still has nightmares.”

“And you’ve been extremely patient with him,” she said. “He lost his parents too young. And you were barely of age when you lost yours. Are you telling me you didn’t have nightmare of the Fell Winter?”

Bilbo blinked. “You know, I had actually forgotten that I did.”

Mirabella hummed. “I’m not surprised. You’ve come a long way since then.” The doorbell rang and Bilbo stood, offering to answer it in his aunt’s stead, earning teasing jibes about being a dutiful nephew. Ruby smiled at Bilbo, her arm hooked around Thorin’s.

“How are you Bilbo?” she asked.

“Good. Now if you’d kindly unhand my husband, Ruby, I would be most grateful.”

“Not my fault you managed to nab someone with such excellent arms,” she said, releasing Thorin from her hold and striding inside. Thorin sighed.

“Why is everyone obsessed with my arms?”

Bilbo hummed and kissed Thorin’s cheek. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, leading Thorin into the living room. Ruby and Mirabella were already mumbling to themselves. Bilbo couldn’t be sure what about.

“But I want to know,” Thorin said sitting in one of the armchairs as Bilbo took his spot on the sofa back.

“Sex appeal?” Bilbo tried. Thorin shot him an unamused glare and Bilbo grinned. “It’s just an idea. You have very shapely arms.”

“Maybe you should be quiet,” Thorin suggested.

Bilbo grinned and wisely poured himself some more tea while he waited for Ruby and Mirabella to make a decision.

Ruby turned to them. “All Mirabella and I care for is that Frodo is happy,” she said. “I’ve not been to the meetings but Mirabella has been keeping me updated. We both agree that you two are the best fit for the boy.” She smoothed her skirts out. “However, I do not believe that it will lead to happy family reunions between the families. I hate to admit it, but there is still question of Thorin’s presence in the Shire.”

Bilbo fumed. “It’s been ten years! Are people still—”

“They might have been wise in keeping their opinions to themselves,” Mirabella said. “But you should be prepared for some…opposition even after the adoption is finalized. It’s better to be prepared.”

Bilbo set his cup down before the urge to throw it overcame him. “Is there any other issues our relatives will try to use?”

“Other than the lack of a mother figure?” Ruby asked. “No.” She arched a brow at them. “Still interested?”

“If that is what you call a scare tactic, cousin, then we’ve a _long way_ to go before you can even _hope_ to do more than annoy me,” Bilbo grit out. Thorin squeezed his shoulder.

“Relax. It’s not much different than arguments I’ve seen before when an Elf choses to marry outside their race.”

“There’s some difference.”

“But not much of one,” Thorin said. “We’re still interested,” he told the women, “If you are still willing to grant us custody of the boy.”

“Good,” Mirabella said, smirking at them. “I look forward to seeing the young man he becomes under your care.” She stood. “I’ll fetch the papers.”

“And I want to lay out some ground rules,” Ruby said, wrapping her shawl around her tighter. “Namely tea twice a month, one of which will always be with the family and _no_ Bilbo, you will _not_ try to get out of them. You’ve missed far too much and I’ve missed my grandson because of your anti-social behavior.”

Bilbo cursed under his breath and Thorin gave him an empathetic pat on the back. “Anything else?”

“I know you need your adventures,” she said. “And every couple needs time alone. I’m sure you found a sitter already, but if they’re unavailable, I’ll gladly take him off your hands.”

“That would make things easier, Thorin said. Bilbo sighed and nodded.

“Fine, those aren’t too bad. Well, tea with _family_ makes me wonder if you intend to murder me.”

“Well, maybe Lobelia, but beside that, I’d prefer it if you refrained from murder, Bilbo.” Mirabella returned with some parchment, an inkwell, and a quill, setting them on the coffee table.

“They’ve already been looked over by the lawyers and notarized. They just need our signatures.”

“And that’s it?” Thorin asked.

“Save for getting it to the lawyer and having it processed, that’s it,” Mirabella said. Bilbo reviewed the papers and signed his name before passing it to Thorin. “Shall we have some more tea?” She stood without waiting for another answer and strode to the kitchen.

 _For all the battling that’d been done_ , Bilbo thought, _this was remarkably simple_.

He felt a little scared and a little giddy. It wasn’t much unlike how he felt when he decided in an instant to race after Thorin and the company—a decision he was glad he made—and go on an adventure to take back a mountain from a dragon.

It didn’t feel different at all, both parts exciting and dangerous.

He couldn’t wait to tell Frodo.

~September 22nd—Twenty-Seven Years Later~

“What are you doing?” Thorin asked, approaching the gate. Frodo looked at him, a nail between his teeth. He took it out and pointed at the door.

“Ask Bilbo,” he said before pinning the nail to the gate. He stepped back picking up a book.

_NO ADMITTANCE EXCEPT ON PARTY BUSINESS_

“I think I will,” Thorin agreed as the door opened and Bilbo stepped out, pipe in hand.

“See you two tonight,” Frodo said.

“Where are you off to?”

“East Farthing Wood—going to surprise Gandalf.”

“Go on then!” Bilbo said, waving him off with the stem of his pipe.

“Why did you invite him again?”

“As if Gandalf _needs_ an invitation to celebrate anything,” Bilbo said. Thorn nodded. He could agree with that, stepping into the garden and sat beside Bilbo.

“If you think that sign will stop Lobelia, I promise you, it won’t.”

“I know,” he said. “Nor do I care. It’ll stop the rest of our relatives from bothering us. And likely any serious courting offers Frodo’s bound to receive now.”

Thorin arched a brow. “Would he? He and Sam are still together.”

“Aye,” Bilbo said, “But it tends to be that other offers will be made regardless whether a pair is in love. They’ll argue for a need to have an heir.”

Thorin hummed. “Thank the gods they’re thinking of courting Rose Cotton then.” Bilbo coughed. “You didn’t know?”

“Of course I didn’t know! Since when?”

“They’ve been discussing it for a while now,” Thorin said. “I’m shocked you didn’t notice.” Bilbo hummed. “I’ve been a bit preoccupied with my book, I suppose. That would take care of that problem, wouldn’t it? Ha!” Bilbo grinned. “I’d like to see the looks on everyone’s faces when the lads succeed, then.”

Thorin stood. “I’m going to take a nap before the party.”

“And I’ll be here if you need me, or in the study.”

“You ought to get some rest too.”

Bilbo waved him off. “It’s a coming of age party. It needn’t—well, _hello_.” Thorin followed Bilbo’s line of sight and grinned. “I take it that nap you were thinking of won’t be happening?” Thorin rolled his eyes.

“No admittance except on party business,” Kili read aloud. “I take it our being here is party business, right?”

“Aye, Ki, I think it is,” Fili said.

“Hilarious,” Bilbo muttered, “And shouldn’t you two be kinging or something.”

“Asa has everything under control,” Fili said. “And Tauriel as well.”

“Not Dis?”

“Mum wanted to come. I think she’s with Gandalf right now.”

“Oh, poor Frodo!” Thorin said.

“Why?”

“He went to greet Gandalf,” Bilbo said. “His fault entirely if he gets mothered by your mother. What of the others?”

“They’ll be here eventually,” Kili said. “But it is the Shire. Hardly dangerous territory, you know.”

“Well, then,” Bilbo said, emptying the bell and standing. “Come inside, then. Best make yourself comfortable while I put on the tea.”

He led them inside and closed the door behind him. For a moment, he glanced out the window, expecting to see a mop of curly black hair walking beside a tall, grey-clad figure with a pointy hat. Bilbo shook his head, chuckling.

They’ll be here eventually and knowing Frodo, he’d rush off before the others found him. There’d be plenty of time to cause him grief at the party.

 

The End


End file.
